


Under His Skin

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-11-14
Packaged: 2020-05-19 01:41:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19346983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: There’s no love lost between Daryl Dixon and Olivia Kennedy.  He hates everything about her, from her fierce independence to her fiery temper, and the feeling is more than mutual.  When she loses her brother, the group grows concerned as their resident bad girl goes even further off the rails.  As Olivia’s reckless behaviour leaves her stranded with Daryl in a world that is determined to throw up a constant stream of obstacles in their path, will they be able to pull together to keep themselves alive and fight their way back home?  Or will their differences prove to be their downfall?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, here it is! The first part of my longest-running series of 2019! I’ve had this one planned for a while now and I’m excited to finally share it with you all. There will be 20 chapters in total and updates will be weekly, so this will take us right the way up to the first week of November - I know, right? Crazy! 
> 
> As a little context, this fic is set in Season One after Merle’s disappearance, but veers away from canon in that the group end up staying at the quarry for a little longer than they do in the show. And, obviously, there’s a couple of OC’s thrown in for good measure.
> 
> Remember, feedback is GOLD and always makes my heart so so happy so please, get in touch, let me know your thoughts as the story progresses. And, most importantly, enjoy!

Rewind a month.  Two months.  Three.  Go back to a time before the dead started walking and the world as the population knew it came to an end.  Remember when people had jobs, families, bills to pay and commitments to fulfil with a grunt and a groan and a sigh as they went about the monotonous routines of daily life.  Then the only sounds in the forest would have been those emitted by nature: the chirrupy chittering of the birds up in the highest branches of the trees; the breathy whisper of the breeze through the leaves; the rustle of wildlife as it scurried through the undergrowth, hidden from the human eye.  For the odd rambler that did venture into that haven of tranquility, it was a fragile harmony, delicate and balanced, peaceful even.  But not anymore.

A guttural shout burst from Olivia’s chest as she sprinted through a narrow avenue in the densely-packed trunks, sunlight dappling the dark denim of her jacket, her boots crashing through the scrub.  Her dark hair was plastered to the back of her neck, the Georgia heat oppressive even within the shadows of the wood, her muscles burning as she pushed herself harder, faster, but her lips were quirked into a satisfied smile, her usually pale skin flushed with exertion.  Even with her pulse pounding in her ears, she could hear the snarls that followed her, the gnashing of jaws and snapping of rotten teeth, and, with a quick glance over her shoulder, she skidded to a halt, rounding on her prey and drawing a deadly-looking knife from her belt.

She’d never been in a fight, not before the world had gone mad, all topsy-turvy and upside-down.  She had a sharp tongue, sure, and a killer attitude, but she’d never been in a position where she’d had to back up her sarcastic snarks and biting put-downs with her fists or a weapon of any kind.  So, it was with surprising ease that she spun the blade in her fingers, poised on the balls of her feet, as the stumbling corpses drew closer, arms outstretched, reaching, ravenous.  As yellowed fingertips brushed over her chest, she tilted her body, angling a vicious kick at the biter and sending it reeling backwards, before ducking under the hungry clutches of another and plunging her knife into its skull.  It dropped, and the adrenaline already pumping through her system surged, punching a snort of manic laughter from her lungs.  The others were on her now, three at once, and she began to operate on autopilot, whirling around, fists flying, blade slashing.  Warm, sticky blood spurted over her skin, flecking her face with bright crimson red, smearing as she paused to wipe it away before renewing her onslaught, undeterred by the mess and gore.

It seemed odd that, having lost almost everything to the violence and chaos of the apocalypse, it was exactly those things that now made her feel so alive, but, she supposed, that’s because they were proof that she was exactly that.  She could feel it all when she was worked up like this, in the midst of a battle for her life: every beat of her heart, sending hot, spiky energy sparking around her body; the ache in her feet and the screaming of her muscles as she dipped and ducked and danced her way around the vacant corpses, grinning all the while; the pure, raw power of what she was really capable of when she pushed herself, limitless, strong.  She could feel the anger, so much anger pent-up inside, bitter and poisonous, flooding out through her fists with each blow she landed upon the battered, broken bodies, and she could feel her grief dissipate into the air and float away, a little bit at a time, until she almost forgot about it completely, just for a while.

It was better out here.  She was better out here.  Back at the camp, there was little for her to do, and she’d end up drowning in her thoughts: what she’d had; what she’d lost.  Sometimes she’d swear that she could actually hear the screams of her parents as she’d fled from the only home she’d ever known, and, as the evenings drew in, bringing darkness and endless quiet, she could see their faces, desperate and pleading.

_Run!  Guys, you have to run!  Go, get out of here!  We’ll be right behind you!_

It had been a lie.  She’d known it.  She was pretty sure Dean had known it too.  But, with fear twisting in her gut and panic forging an iron cage around her chest, she’d been in no position to argue.  Her brother’s hand had found hers, clammy palms slip-sliding together, and they’d half-run, half-fallen through the back door and out into the yard, tumbling over the fence and into the unknown.  Olivia had sworn then that she’d never let her terror dominate her again, that she’d be stronger, better than she’d been that day, the day her parents had died, and so far she hadn’t gone back on that.  And that was why she was out here, drawing the corpses in and taking them down, one at a time, as if she could single-handedly rid the world of their plague.

The breath was forced from her lungs as a walker that had approached from behind lunged without warning, taking her down hard, its weight landing on top of her and pinning her to the dusty forest floor.  Her knife flew from her fingers, disappearing beneath the vibrant fronds of a squat bush a few feet away.  With a muttered curse, she twisted her neck in a desperate bid to avoid inhaling the rancid stench of death that the corpse huffed over her with every growl, nails digging into the hard dirt as she hauled her body along, fighting to escape.  Time slipped into slow motion as her hands found the warped, twisted limb of a tree root emerging from the ground and used it to drag herself free of the corpse’s clutches, immediately rolling onto her back so she could plant both feet into the middle of its chest and shove hard.  Green eyes sparkling, she watched in victorious glee as it flew backwards, granting her enough time to retrieve her weapon and start towards it once more.

It was already struggling to right itself, driven on by that insatiable greed that made them so feral, so deadly, and Olivia shook her head at its inability to know when to just die already.  She steadied herself, feet shoulder-width apart, as she took aim and brought her arm up, sending the blade soaring through the air.  Seconds, tiny, insignificant seconds, before it could bury itself in the biter’s skull though, a crossbow bolt whistled through the trees, penetrating bone and brain and other gooey bits that didn’t even bear thinking about, and the corpse slumped to the side, gone for real this time.

‘Goddamn, really?’  She rolled her eyes, tipping her head back as an exaggerated huff of frustration pushed past her lips.  ‘Shit, I had him, man!  What the hell’d you have to do that for?’

She didn’t get an answer and, in reality, she didn’t expect one.  She knew who’d taken the fun out of her final kill, and she watched as he stepped from the shadows and stooped to retrieve his bolt, wiping it clean on the leg of his trousers before sliding it into the quiver that hung across his back.  Daryl Dixon, the group’s sullen, cross-bow wielding redneck.  It wasn’t the first time their paths had crossed beneath the leafy canopies, but each time she wished it were the last.  Still silent, he leant down further, reaching for something buried in the thick grasses at the base of a tree trunk to his right and tugging it free, holding it up between two meaty fingers as he picked his way over to her, sidestepping a copse she’d made a particularly bad mess of, practically gutting it before she’d slammed her blade home inside its head.  

Her knife, she realised, was what the archer was now offering to her, a look of disgust contorting his features, and she snatched it back from him with a snarl.  ‘Seriously?  Would’ve hit its mark just fine if you hadn’t had to get in the way.’

‘Thought someone was in trouble,’ he bit out, turning his back on her and inspecting the rest of the bodies that surrounded them.  ‘If I’d’ve known it was you, I wouldn’a bothered.’

‘You shouldn’t have.  I don’t need anybody watching out for me, Dixon.’

‘Like I said, didn’t know it was you,’ he retorted, dropping to his knees to begin searching the pockets of the walkers, smirking when he found a packet of cigarettes.  He pulled one out to place between his lips as he levered himself back to his feet.  ‘S’just out here huntin’, heard a fight.’

‘I can see that’s going well.’

He shrugged, rooting around in the back pocket of his jeans for a lighter, and sending a curl of smoke into the air as he lit up and inhaled.  He was noticeably empty-handed, not even a string of squirrels looped over his arm - his usual offering to group mealtimes - and Olivia arched an eyebrow as the tips of his ears reddened, his gaze dropping to the ground.  ‘Ain’t nothin’ out here today.  Ya must’a scared ‘em all off.’

‘Oh, so it’s my fault?  You gonna go back and tell everyone that?  Try to hide the fact that maybe you’re just a shit shot, huh?’

He scoffed, hitching his bow further up his shoulder and giving the fallen corpses a final glance before he turned to head for home.  ‘Saved yer ass, didn’t I?’

‘I told you, I didn’t need saving.’

*****

Daryl wasn’t sure why the girl fell into step beside him when he decided to give up and call it a day.  Honestly, he wasn’t really sure what the hell she’d been doing out there in the first place, except looking for trouble and nearly getting herself killed.  And he really didn’t know why he’d had to be stupid enough to intervene.  As far as he was concerned, Olivia Kennedy meeting her end would be the cherry on top of a real shitty day, one less thorn in his side and not a huge loss to the group as far as he could see.  But, sneaking a sideways glance at her as she strode along, matching his gait despite their height difference and the fact that she must be hurting from the fight, bruising up real good, he found himself picturing his brother and the stupid antics he used to get up to when he was off his head.  

‘Y’know ya could’a got yerself killed back there.  Or bit.  Either way.’ He took a drag from his cigarette, pausing to let the nicotine hit take effect, before pushing on.  ‘S’that the point?  That why ya come out here?  ‘Cause I’m damn sure there’s a few people back at camp that’d help ya out if ya decided ya didn’t wanna do this no more.’

‘And you’d be first in line, right?’ Her lip curled as she shook her head.  ‘Nah, I’m not looking for a way out, sorry to burst your bubble.  Just having a little fun, that’s all.’

‘Ya call that fun?’

‘Yeah, don’t you?  We’ve all gotta blow off a little steam from time to time, Dixon.  It’s not like there’s a whole lot else to do these days.’

‘Ain’t fun.  Ain’t nothin’ but stayin’ alive.  Seekin’ ‘em out, drawin’ ‘em in with all that noise ya was kickin’ up, yer gonna lead ‘em right to camp one o’ these days.  People gonna die.’

She scoffed.  ‘And you care?  C’mon, you can’t stand a damn person in that place, especially now you’re going solo.’

‘Shut up.’

‘What?  You missing big bro, Daryl?  Is it making you super grouchy?  Because-’

‘I said stop.’  He came to an abrupt halt so that Olivia moved past him, spinning back to face him and planting a hand on her hip as his eyes narrowed.  ‘Ya should stop runnin’ yer mouth off ‘bout shit ya don’t know nothin’ about, girl.  Or ya might walk into these woods one day ‘n’ not come back, ya hear me?’

Above them, a lone bird emitted a single solitary call, and then there was a fluttering of wings as it abandoned its perch and took off, a flickering shadow disappearing from sight.  

‘Fine, whatever.’ With a careless shrug, she turned away and began walking again, picking out the treeline and adjusting her path to follow it, hopping over a stump that jutted up from the dirt.  ‘I’m just saying you’ve got your issues, I’ve got mine.  But I’ve figured out the best way to deal with them, so don’t come down on me just because you’d rather sit and mope, okay?’

*****

Dean glanced up as his sister emerged from the forest.  He could see, even from a distance, that she was banged up, blood smeared over her face and neck, but she seemed to be walking easy, so his first instinct wasn’t concern.  In actual fact, his first instinct was to duck and cover, because he knew her well enough to know that the slight purse of her lips and the way she tossed her hair back from her face meant that she was royally pissed off, and that had a tendency not to end well for anyone.

‘What’s up, Liv?  Bad day?’ He’d been bent over the engine of his truck, tuning it up just in case they needed to make a quick getaway at some point, but he stood straight now as she approached, slamming the hood down and tugging a rag from his back pocket to wipe the grease from his hands.

Sunlight glinted off the windscreen of the RV where it stood in the centre of the camp, momentarily blinding him, but, as his vision adjusted, he managed to pick out Dale at his post on the roof, slumped in a deckchair, a floppy hat shielding his eyes.  The kids were sword-fighting with some sticks they’d found close to the wood, shrieking in delight as the weapons clanked harmlessly, and, further away, the women talked quietly as they folded the laundry.  Just another day in paradise.

‘Something like that.’  Olivia’s tone was icy cold, and she pushed past him to hop up on the hood, crossing her legs and settling back on her elbows.  Her jeans, he noticed, were crusted with dirt and gore, but he said nothing, hoisting himself up beside her and kicking his feet against the bumper.

‘So, you wanna talk about it?’

‘Nothing to talk about.’

‘Really?  That why you look like you’re chewing on a wasp or something right now?’ She shook her head and he couldn’t help but smirk, nudging her with an elbow when she refused to meet his gaze.  ‘I’m serious.  I know that look, Livvy.  You got it from Mom.’

That got her attention and she rolled her eyes, pushing herself up straight again so she could steal the rag from his fingers.  ‘Did not.’

‘Yeah, you did.’ He cringed when she pulled out her knife, wiping it clean on the oily fabric, the sticky red covering the black stains he’d left behind and turning his stomach.  It didn’t seem to matter how many walkers he killed, he was sure he’d never get used to how gross it all was. ‘So, c’mon, what’s going on?’

‘Nothing, I told you.’

‘Liv…’

Her gaze locked on his for a moment, steely and unwavering, and then, with a quiet huff, her defences fell, and he could see the little girl she’d once been.  There were only a couple of years between the two of them, but that was enough to allow Dean to remember the snits she used to get in as a kid, fat bottom lip jutting out as she pouted, big green eyes wide and beseeching.  It was enough to melt even the hardest heart, and he found himself reaching out to wrap an arm around her shoulders as she leant into him, watching as her focus shifted to a lone figure heading for the tents.  

‘I ran into him out there.’

‘Yeah?  Daryl?’

‘Yeah.  He was an ass.’

‘And what exactly did he do to piss you off?’ He tried to keep his voice even, though it wasn’t the first time they’d had a conversation like this and he was sure it would be something and nothing, just as it had been before.

‘He… He stole my kill.  I was down to the last biter and he just came marching in and shot it through the head.  And then he acted like I should be grateful because he saved me, like I’m some kind of damsel in distress or something.  Like I said, the guy’s an ass.’

‘So, he helped you out, got a mouthful of attitude in return and didn’t like it much, huh?’

Dean knew her far too well, and she fixed him with a stern glare as she sat up a little straighter, squaring her shoulders in defiance.  ‘Not necessarily.  It was his whole demeanour.  You don’t know, Dean, alright?  You weren’t there.’

‘Fine, fine.’  Noticing that Lori and Andrea were crouched around the pit where the fire was lit each evening, ready to cook whatever they’d managed to scrounge up for dinner, he slid from his seat, landing with a thud on the ground, before turning back to his sister and digging a playful finger into her ribs, making her squeal and kick out at him.  ‘You know what they say though, Liv.  If a guy’s mean to you, it’s usually ‘cause he likes you.’

‘Dixon doesn’t like me.  He hates me and, trust me, the feeling’s mutual.’

‘Yeah?  That whole brooding redneck thing not working for you?’

‘Shut up, loser.’

‘You shut up.’

She kicked him again and he caught her round the ankle, tugging her to the edge of the hood so that she was dangerously close to tumbling to the ground.  ‘I’m gonna start hating you too if you don’t let go of me!’

‘Ahh, quit the bitch act, Liv.  You can’t fool me.’

‘It’s not an act.’

‘Whatever you say, sis.  But we’re stuck with these people if we wanna survive out here, so you might wanna try being a little nicer.’  

She wriggled out of his hold to drop down beside him, casting her eyes over the camp and wilting at the monotony of it all.  ‘But, Dean-’

‘No but’s.’  He ruffled her hair as he turned to walk away, spinning back to deliver his parting shot.  ‘And you and Daryl are gonna have to learn to get along one of these days.’

‘Over my dead body.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter got really long and there’s not a whole lot of Daryl in it - sorry about that. But it is super super important to the story so, please, give it a chance… Happy reading!

‘Hey, Olivia, could I borrow your music for a while?’

The tiny voice tore her from her thoughts, and Olivia tilted her head to one side as Carl hovered in front of her, swaying nervously.  His hair needed a cut, his fringe falling into his eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile at his exaggerated politeness, though she pushed the urge down firmly.

‘Really, kid?  You think I ought to let you use my walkman, huh?  You know the batteries are limited.’

‘I know, but- Please.  It helps me sleep.  I don’t like how quiet it gets at night.’

That she could relate to.  It was a different sort of quiet than she was accustomed to, camped out beside the quarry.  Not silence, but far from the drunken shouts and car engines that she’d grown used to back home.  No, now the night was broken by the call of animals in the woods, the rustling of the brush as the nocturnal amongst them awoke and went about their business.  It was eerie, creepy, and she often found herself sleeping with her jacket balled over her head, blocking it out so that she could find some peace.  

Reaching behind her, she tugged her backpack closer and unzipped it, rummaging inside until she found the precious device and the headphones that went with it and pulling them free.  It was old, built to take a cassette, not a CD, but music had always been her escape and she treasured it, carrying it with her at all times and rationing the time she spent listening to make the batteries last as long as possible.  Who knew if she’d ever find more than the small supply she had in her pack.  ‘Just one song, you hear me?’ she warned him as she handed it over, heart aching just a bit at the gleeful smile it earned her.  ‘Two at the most.  I’ll be able to tell, kid.’

‘I promise.’ He slipped the headphones on, eyes widening in wonder as he hit play.  ‘What is it?’

‘Nirvana.’ His look of confusion made her laugh, and she realised with a pang that she was getting old. ‘They’re good, I swear.  Give it a chance.’

As he wandered away, head bobbing to the beat, Olivia directed her gaze upwards towards the sky.  It was inky black, the shimmer of stars flecked across it stealing her away from herself.  She remembered, as a child, her Dad sitting with her in the backyard, one arm tucked around her, the other floating in the air as he sought to pick out the constellations.  She wished she could remember more of it, what he taught her, thought it might actually come in handy one of these days if she did, but it was too late for that now.  So, she slipped into the memory and let it warm her, fighting against the chill that had goosebumps prickling over her skin.

Her knees were drawn up tight to her chest, feet crossed at the ankle as she rocked back and forth.  With the kids already zipped soundly into their sleeping bags, around her the rest of the camp was readying itself to settle down for the night.  She could hear the muffled stomp of Shane’s boots as he stamped out the last remnants of the fire, the muted discussions between Dale, Glenn and Rick over the watch rota for the hours ahead.  And, outside his tent a few metres away, Daryl sat, as she did, staring up into the sky, before he registered her presence and disappeared inside with a soft grunt.  

A small part of her now regretted the words she’d snapped at him before, out in the forest, driven on by frustration and the hollow feeling that was left behind when the adrenaline drained away.  After all, she’d lost people, far too many of them: her mom, her dad, her best friend, even the guy next door she’d dated once or twice.  All she had left was her brother and she couldn’t even begin to imagine how it would feel to lose him too.  So, perhaps she shouldn’t have been cruel enough to rub Daryl’s own grief in his face.  But there was something about him that rubbed her up the wrong way.  It was the way he looked at her, as if she were small, insignificant, just another mouth to feed and a burden like the children.  It was the swagger in his walk, the way he refused to look anybody in the eye, throwing his words over his shoulder when he had something to say, and the constant glower that darkened his features.  She couldn’t help not liking the guy and he seemed to get in her damn way every chance he got.  So, maybe she’d put more effort in to keeping her distance.  As Dean had pointed out, they needed this group if they were going to make it, stay alive, and the archer was a part of it.  She had to find a way to deal with him being around.

‘I saw that.’  She’d barely been aware of Dean’s approach until he settled himself on the ground beside her, stretching out his long legs with a sigh.  His dark hair was ruffled, and she wondered vaguely whether he’d been hooking up with Andrea again, something he thought she wasn’t aware of, but she pushed it to the back of her head.  None of her business.  Her love life, or lack of, certainly wasn’t any of his.

‘What?’

‘You loaned the kid your walkman.’

‘What about it?’

His green eyes, so like her own but deeper, mossier, sparkled as he fixed her with a knowing look and she turned her head away, watching Lori and Rick embrace before slipping into their tent and zipping it closed.  ‘Just that your human side was showing there for a minute.  I haven’t seen it in a while.’

‘Shut up.’  She shuffled along the ground, scooching forward until she had enough space to flop backwards, cushioning her head on her arms.  ‘He’s a good kid.’

‘They all are.  They’re good people.  We got lucky here.’

‘Yeah, maybe.’

‘You don’t think so?’

Olivia’s gaze followed Glenn as he hoisted himself up the ladder on the side of the RV, shotgun slung over his shoulder as he took up his post, eyes combing the treeline for any sign of movement.  ‘Yeah.  No.  I don’t know.  I don’t really know them.’

‘Whose fault is that?’ he teased, nudging her with his elbow as he slumped down himself, mirroring her position.  

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘It means you spend all your time out there in the woods, Liv.  Alone.  Doesn’t give you a lot of time to get to know people.’

‘I thought you understood.’  Out of everyone, she’d thought that Dean would be able to comprehend her need to be active, the buzz of the kill, her desire to take down as many of the monsters that ripped their family apart as possible, and the kindness in his face as he turned his head towards her told her she was right.  But…

‘I do.  I get it, Liv.  That’s the only reason I keep my mouth shut about it.’

‘You got something to say?’

‘Hey, cut the attitude, alright?  I’m just saying I worry.  It’s not safe out there and you disappear off on your own for hours on end.  So, yeah, I get it, but I don’t like it.  Makes me kinda glad that Daryl’s out there looking out for you.’

She snorted.  ‘He’s not looking out for me.  He’s hunting.  He’s just not very good at it and ends up tracking me instead of something we can actually eat.’

‘Whatever.  He’s never far away and that makes me feel better.  Can you understand that?’

She shook her head, though when she felt the warm weight of Dean’s hand cover her own, she grabbed onto it.  She remembered a time when her mom would tell her to hold her big brother’s hand whenever they left the house.   _He’ll keep you safe_ , she used to say.  _That’s what big brothers do._   And Olivia would squeal and whine and make a fuss until she’d give up and take a hold of her herself.  But now, she couldn’t imagine anything more comforting than the calming solidity of him, the only family she had left.  

‘You’re all I’ve got, sis,’ he echoed her thoughts.  ‘I can’t lose you.  So, maybe think about that next time you head out there looking for a fight.  That’s all I’m asking.’

*****

The faces that gathered the next morning were grim and drawn, eyes bloodshot with exhaustion, hands wrung together or balled into fists; worry and determination battling for dominance within each member of the group.  Olivia had woken late, worn out from the fight the day before and having laid for half the night with Dean, reminiscing, talking nonsense beneath the stars, and she picked her way over now with an element of caution, busying her fingers by pulling her dark waves up into a messy ponytail.

‘What’s going on?’ she hissed as she reached her brother’s side, but, as he opened his mouth to respond, Rick beat him to it.

‘We need to put together a supply run.’

‘Where?’ T-Dog asked the question on everybody’s minds, and got the answer he expected, dreaded.

‘The city.  It’s the only place we know that we can guarantee we’ll find what we need.’

‘And what do we need?’ Olivia spoke up.  ‘I thought we were pretty well stocked.’

‘We were.  But we’ve got a lot of mouths to feed and supplies are running low.  On a good day we can rely on whatever Andrea manages to catch out on the water, anything Daryl brings back from a hunt, but on a bad one we need rations to fall back on.  Right now, that’s down to a handful of cans and a packet of beef jerky.’

‘I can push out further,’ Daryl offered.  He’d been gnawing on his thumbnail through the exchange so far, but now the burden of guilt, for not being able to bring something back each day, to be able to provide for the group, landed on his shoulders.  ‘Might be the noise from the city’s driven anythin’ out there away.  I’ll head out a few miles further than normal, see what I can scare up.’

‘That’s good,’ Rick nodded.  ‘But it’s not enough.’

‘Wait a minute.’ Dean stepped forward, hands spread as he fixed the sheriff with an incredulous stare. ‘You seriously think the city’s the right hit?  The place was crawling last time.  We barely got out alive, and…’

He tailed off, eyes flicking to Daryl.   _And they’d left someone behind_.  That was what he’d been about to say, Olivia could feel it, and the air thickened with tension as the archer smirked.  

‘Yeah, ya can say it.  Ya left someone out there.  My brother.’

‘It’s the right hit.’ Shane moved up to Rick’s side, steely glare burning into those that dared question the plan.  Olivia was sure it must be his.  He had nothing left to lose, unlike so many of the rest of them, so she was surprised when Rick cleared his throat and spoke again.

‘We’re putting a team together.  I’ll be leading it.  Shane’ll hang back here, just in case.’  

Across from where Olivia stood, she saw Lori’s expression falter for a moment.  It hadn’t been that long since she’d been reunited with the husband she’d believed to be dead, and now he was walking away from her again, heading back to the place where he’d nearly met his end to provide for the group he’d taken it upon himself to lead.  She was torn between admiration for Rick for putting himself in that position, leading from the front, and disgust that he’d take such a risk when he had a son he was supposed to be looking out for.  

‘So,’ Shane said now, rubbing his hands together and curling his tongue behind his teeth.  ‘Any volunteers?’

‘I’ll go.’ It wasn’t exactly shocking that Andrea was the first to step forward.  Since losing her sister, she’d grown reckless, and Olivia could understand it.  Amy’s death had filled her with a need to hunt, to learn to kill, and she was sure Shane had been teaching her to shoot.  But she was in way over her head with this one.  It was one thing to do what she did, head out into the forest, lure in a handful of walkers at a time and take them down, bloody and violent and one hell of a rush.  But if the city really was crawling, then it was certain suicide to head out there, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to-

‘I’m in.’ 

She turned wide-eyed to glare at her brother.  ‘The hell you are!’

‘What?  I’m not letting her go out there without me.’

‘Dean, you nearly died out there the last time in case you’ve-’

‘Liv, I’m in.’

For a second, the battle of wills continued, green eyes locked on green, fists clenched, as Olivia’s mind reeled.  Would he really do this, risk his life for a fling?  She knew her brother and he always had some girl hanging from his every word, but he’d never formed anything serious, never kept any of them around.  It was all meaningless to Dean, always had been.  But, as she stared at him, willing him to back down, she could read the determination in his face, see the intent in his gaze, and her shoulders slumped at the realisation that she wouldn’t change his mind.  She shrugged.  ‘Fine, I’m in too.’

‘And me,’ Glenn offered, raising his hand.  ‘I’m fast and I know the city.  I can help.’

‘Alright then.’ Rick glanced at his watch, a remnant of a world that didn’t exist anymore, before casting his gaze up to the sky.  ‘We leave in a half hour.  I want to be back before dark.’

As he turned to stride away, Olivia reached out and grabbed Dean’s arm, hauling him around to face her.  ‘What the hell was that?’

‘Drop it, Liv.’

‘No, no, I won’t drop it!  You realise what you just signed up for?  It’s a suicide mission, Dean!’

‘And you heading out into the forest all alone isn’t?’

‘I can handle myself,’ she bit back.  ‘Are you seriously doing this for her?  You didn’t even know her a couple of months ago.’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ He pulled himself free from her grasp, eyes flashing as he stared her down.  ‘Look, if you think it’s that risky, sis, you don’t gotta come, alright?  But I’m going.’

‘Well, then, I don’t have a choice.  You’ll get your ass killed without me watching your back.’

He scoffed, though he reached out to wrap his arm around her neck, pulling her in so he could brush a soft kiss to the top of her head.  ‘And that’s why we’re such a great team.’

*****

Cars.  Vans.  Trucks.  The road was gridlocked with vehicles, snaking out from the city, thousands of them, sitting in memorial to the owners who’d been forced to abandon them, those who hadn’t made it out.  With the outline of high-rise buildings silhouetted against the blue summer sky, the small convoy rolled to a halt.

‘Shit,’ Olivia breathed.  She’d heard from the others, of course, just how bad it had got in the city.  They’d returned from runs before full of tales of the nightmares they’d seen, and then, of course, there was the debacle with Merle.  But this was the first time she’d seen it herself and the utterly static chaos of it was heartbreaking.  

‘Yeah.’ Dean killed the engine, tugging the keys free and sliding them into his pocket before leaning both hands on the wheel.  ‘I mean, I know I’ve seen it before but I swear, each time I come back, I’ve forgotten how bad it really is.’

‘It’s like a graveyard.’

‘That’s exactly what it is.’

Seeing the others sliding out of the car in front, he pushed open his door to do the same, and Olivia followed, joining them and the reluctant atmosphere that hung over them as they contemplated what lay ahead.  Andrea was already loading bullets into the chamber of her gun, but Rick shook his head.

‘No guns, not if we can help it.  It’ll just draw more of them to us.  We need to be quiet about this if we’re gonna get in and out without any trouble.’

Glenn pulled a folded map from his back pocket, spreading it out on the truck’s hood so he could point out a couple of streets that led off of a square close to the centre of the city.  ‘These are our best bets for getting what we need, as far as I can tell.  There are other places closer to the highway, but my guess is that those will have already been hit.  These ones are harder to get to, more dangerous.  If there’s anything left, that’s where it’ll be.’

‘Sounds great,’ Olivia agreed, grimly.  ‘Hard and dangerous.  Perfect.’

‘We’ll split up when we reach the square,’ Rick decided.  ‘We’ll be faster that way.  I’ll take Glenn, hit this target here.’  He gestured at the map.  ‘You three split off right and check out the other one.  Once we break off, the clock starts running.  We’ll meet back here in an hour.  Anyone that’s not back here…’

He didn’t need to finish the sentence, the meaning behind it was obvious.  Anyone that didn’t make it back to the car within the sixty minute window would be left behind to fend for themselves.  As heartless as it may seem, the other alternative would be to risk leading the crowds of undead back towards their camp.  It didn’t bear thinking about.  

‘We ready?’ Dean asked, tugging his knife from his belt and spinning it in his fingers, and Olivia nodded, though her stomach was tied in knots.

‘Yep.

‘Then let’s go.’

*****

Olivia was afraid.  It wasn’t something that happened often these days.  She was confident that she knew how to handle herself, and the thrill of the fight, the kill, usually overshadowed any nerves that might spring up at the sign of a corpse shuffling towards her, but it was different in the city.  So far, supply runs had been something that she avoided.  Despite the fact that her brother consistently stepped up to head out, scavenge, before now she’d tended to hold back.  It wasn’t just the risk involved that stopped her, but the knowledge that she wasn’t a team player and probably never would be.  Better leave it to those who were happy to smile and follow orders, people like Dean who knew when to keep his mouth shut and fall in line.  But the last time he’d come back there’d been something different about him.  He’d looked haunted, and he’d walked with a limp for days after, though he’d never really tell Liv the details about what went down.  All she knew was that things had gotten bad and that Merle had to be left behind.  So, when he’d volunteered this time around, she’d known she had no choice but to be at his side.  It was what they did for each other, her and Dean.  It was what they’d always done.  

The streets as they navigated their way through the city were quiet.  The breeze caught stray bits of litter and carried them along the sidewalks, each rustle of paper and clank of a drinks can making Olivia shudder.  Her heart was pounding, her palm sweaty as she adjusted her grip on her knife, and she found herself edging closer to her brother as they rounded another corner, drawing nearer and nearer to the centre where the group would split.

'Where are they?’ she breathed, receiving only a shrug in response.

'Keep your eyes open,’ Rick instructed, his voice low.  'They could be anywhere.’

'Maybe they left,’ Andrea offered.  'There’s nothing left here.  Maybe they moved on.’

But Olivia knew that they hadn’t.  She couldn’t explain it, but she could feel their presence like a vibration in the air, raising the hairs on her arms; a chill that ran down the length of her spine.  It was a sixth sense, one that had only developed recently but that she’d come to trust implicitly.  They might not be able to see them yet, but the walkers were there, waiting who knew where, and she swallowed hard as they drew to a halt.

'This is where we break off,’ Glenn told them, tipping his head towards the street that veered off behind him.  'You guys take the next right, and the hit will be right in front of you.  And be careful.’

'One hour,’ Rick reminded them ominously, before they span on their heels and set off at a jog, leaving Olivia, Dean and Andrea alone.

*****

'Great.’ Dean tugged uselessly at the heavy lock on the doors of the store that had been their intended target, a deep growl of frustration rumbling from his chest when it refused to budge.  Fifteen minutes had passed as they’d taken turns trying to prise it open with the blades of their knives and pick it with a bobby pin that Olivia kept tucked in her pocket, but their efforts had been fruitless and now, with time ticking on, it seemed as if they may be forced to return empty-handed. 'Now what?’

'We could shoot it,’ Andrea pointed out and Olivia rolled her eyes.

'You heard what Rick said and he was right.  No guns.  There are still corpses somewhere round here and you’ll bring them all down on our asses if you fire a round.’

'Since when do you care?’ she bit back.  'Don’t you spend half your time out in the woods killing the damn things?  What have you got to be afraid of?’

'Right now, this is their city,’ Olivia pointed out.  'That means we’re dinner if they figure out we’re here.'  She took a step back away from the doors and cast her eyes up and down the street.  'We should go around, see if there’s another way in.  There’s gotta be a fire escape or something, right?’

'Right,’ Dean agreed, though he didn’t seem hopeful.  'With heavy metal doors that are near impossible to shift.’

'Well, we’ve gotta do something.  We can’t just stand here.’

His gaze met hers, and she could see him doing the math, calculating the risk and the time they had left before he finally nodded.  'Alright, worth a try.’

He took point, weapon raised as he kept to the shadows thrown by the tall building over the street, and Olivia followed close behind, glancing over her shoulder every now and then to check that Andrea was on her tail.  With every moment that passed without a sighting of the undead, the more her unease grew, and when the hushed sound of snarls reached her ears, for a brief moment she thought she might be paranoid, imagining it.  But when Dean paused, his body tense, she knew their luck had run out.  As they rounded the corner of the building, her eyes fell on the fenced off alley just down the way, the thin railing holding back a crowd of jostling bodies.  Their growls grew in volume as they caught sight of the interlopers, their hands snaking through the criss cross of metal that restrained them, reaching desperately despite the distance.

'Guess we found 'em,’ Dean hissed, turning his back on the herd to take stock of their situation.  'But, hey, look - we got a way in.’

A solitary metal staircase climbed the wall of the building, leading to a rusted fire door set up towards the roof, but the bottom flight was barricaded by a stack of lopsided filing cabinets and shelving units. 

'You think we can shift it?’ Olivia asked, moving to take a closer look.  Somebody had tried really hard to keep the dead out it seemed, but it posed a challenge that they really didn’t have time for.

'Not fast enough,’ he observed, as the railing behind him gave a shrill creak of warning, struggling beneath the determination of the corpses to break through.  'Got 'em all riled up.  That thing’s not gonna hold.’

'So, what do we do?’

'Here.'  Olivia watched as he took up a spot beneath the ledge above the barricade, locking his joints as he cradled his hands together.  'I’ll give you girls a leg up.’

'What about you?’

'I’ll figure something out.’

Olivia was shaking her head, knowing already that she couldn’t just leave him there, even as the railing behind her began to buckle, but Andrea was already planting her foot in the cup of his palms and letting him hoist her up towards the staircase.  Her hands found the ridged metal and she grunted as she hauled herself up, pushing her hair back from her face as she twisted on her bottom to look back down at them.  Her eyes went wide.  'Oh, shit!’

With another loud squeal, the railing gave way.  In the scramble, the first wave of corpses fell, only to be trampled on by those next in line as they continued their desperate quest for flesh.

'Liv, we’ve gotta move.'  Dean’s voice was urgent in her ear, but she was frozen to the spot, unable to tear her eyes away from the rotting jaws that snapped and snarled as they drew closer.  'Liv, c'mon!’

A strong hand wrapped around her arm, and then she was running, Dean at her side, towing her along as they pounded down the street, scanning left and right for an escape.  Her pulse raced as adrenaline surged through her system, and she quickened her pace, her fingers finding her brother’s and clutching on tightly as they dove around the next corner.  

Luck was not on their side.  

Olivia’s feet skidded as she came to an abrupt halt, a breathless curse falling from her lips as thirty or more gaunt, yellow-eyed faces turned to take in their sudden arrival.  Behind them the growls of the pursuing undead grew louder and she almost thought she could feel their rancid breath on the back of her neck as panic set in.  They were trapped.  There was no way out of this.

'The window!  Liv, the window!'  Dean’s shout broke through the bubble of fear that had dulled her senses, his hand slipping from hers as he darted across the street and took up the same pose he had before: knees crooked, back straight, hands forming a cradle.  Above him a broken window was set into the brick wall of an unidentifiable office building, and Olivia didn’t think twice before following his path, planting her foot in his hands and groping for the window ledge.  The sharp ragged edges of glass cut into her hands, and she took advantage of Dean’s strength, hovering in the air as she used her elbow to smash the worst of it away before dragging herself up the wall and toppling into the building.  Immediately, she span, leaning through the gap to see the monsters gaining on her brother, getting worryingly close.

'Dean!’

'Stand back.’

She did as he asked, both arms wrapped around her chest as if she could shield herself from this horrific reality and then, with a grunt, the white knuckles of his fingers appeared over the ledge.  He’d somehow managed to launch himself high enough to grip onto the inch of brick on the outside of the window, but she knew he wasn’t safe yet.  She cleared the space between them in two large strides, and then she was leaning out again, hands grabbing at the soft leather of his jacket as she fought to haul him in, to help in some way, closing her eyes to avoid the stomach-knotting sight of the corpses clustered below him.

Inch by inch, Dean slid slowly up the wall, groaning in pain when the jagged glass that was still lodged in the frame cut into his chest and gut, shredding his t-shirt as he finally rolled onto the stained carpet to the sound of Olivia’s sigh of relief.

'God, Dean, I thought-’

'I know, but it’s okay.  I’m okay.  You’re okay, right?’

'I’m good.’

'Good.'  Easing himself to his feet, he raised an arm to mop the sweat from his brow before casting his gaze around the room where they now stood.  It was lined with desks, lifeless computers organised in neat rows with telephone headsets attached, but it smelt musty, abandoned.  'We need to do a sweep, check the building’s clear.’

'Yeah, we will, but-’

'Now, Liv.  They could be pouring in on the ground floor for all we know.’

'I know, but-’

'What?  What is it?'  Fear and pain were making him short-tempered and his tone was snappy, abrupt.  'What?’

'You’re bleeding.’

It was as if he hadn’t realised, as if the memory of those shards of glass had left him as soon as he’d hit the floor, and Olivia was sure that was true.  His instincts had taken over, pure desire for survival driving him on, but the red patch on his t-shirt was growing at an alarming rate, and through the rips she could just make out the gashes against the dusky tan of his skin.  

'We need to patch you up,’ she said decisively.  Grateful that she’d worn layers, she tugged off her t-shirt, leaving her clad in the thin tank top beneath, and wadded up the material, offering it to Dean to press to the worst of his wounds.  'Would you sit, please?’

'We need to-’

'I know.  And I’m gonna go check things out right now, but I need you to sit down and just look after yourself for a minute, okay?’

'Alright.’

'Okay then.  I’ll be right back.’

*****

The building had, by some miracle, been clear.  There were a couple of bodies down in the basement, both taken out by headshots, and Olivia guessed that the sense of hopelessness had gotten to the last survivors that had been there.  She could even kind of understand it with the horde of corpses clamouring at the doors, but, when she returned to Dean and saw the clammy sheen to his skin, she knew she still had far too much to live for.

'How’re you doing?’

'Peachy,’ he muttered with a roll of his eyes.  'We good?’

'We’re good.  Place is pretty secure.  We should be alright here for a while.’

'We don’t have a while,’ he bit out through gritted teeth, sitting up straighter against the wall in a faux show of strength that he didn’t possess in that moment.  'An hour, Liv, that’s what Rick said.  If we don’t make it back…’

She shrugged.  'They might come for us.  I mean, they could.  If Andrea managed to get to them then-’

'Then they’d be getting the heck out of dodge right about now.’

He paused for a moment, the silence broken by the snarls and growls that drifted up from the street below.  Then, 'You think she made it out?  Andrea, I mean.  You think she might’ve got out of there?’

'I think pretty much every corpse in the city was on our tail,’ Olivia pointed out.  'So, yeah, I think she might’ve.’

'Good.’

'You really like her, don’t you?’ She wasn’t supposed to know about their… whatever it was, but he’d hardly been playing coy when he’d signed up for this suicide mission just on the basis that he hadn’t wanted the older blonde to go alone, so she asked the question anyway, surprised when his cheeks flushed pink.  'What is it about her?  I mean, I’ve never seen you this in to anyone before, I don’t think.’

'She’s just broken, I guess.  Raw.  She’s lost a lot.  I think maybe our broken edges just kinda fit together.’

'That’s some fucked up kinda jigsaw, man.’

'Yeah, I guess it is.'  He huffed a laugh, before shaking his head.  'She’ll be alright though, I can feel it.  She’s tough, like you.  She just doesn’t know it.’

'You think I know it?’

'That you’re tough?’

'Yeah.’

His lips quirked in a smirk and she knew somehow that he was flashing back to all of the scrapes she’d gotten into as a kid when she’d turned out not to be half as tough as she’d thought she was.  'Oh, I think you’re pretty damn sure of it.’

*****

Time dragged on.  The corpses that surrounded the building were relentless and the hour disappeared in the blink of an eye, and that was when they both knew that they were entirely alone.  The sun had climbed high into the sky as they sat there, engaging in nonsense conversation to distract themselves from their predicament, and then sank down again, burning reds and oranges hovering above the city.  As some point, Olivia drifted off.  She certainly hadn’t intended to, but exertion and the need to escape the here and now for a moment or two combined to drag her into sleep, and when she woke, Dean was just a dark shadow silhouetted against the window as night crept in.

'Hey, what are you doing?’ Easing herself up on her elbows, Olivia stifled a yawn as Dean turned to face her, his expression grim.  'They still out there?’

'Yep, don’t look like they’re moving on anytime soon.' 

The fear that gnawed at Olivia’s gut grew hungrier and she nodded slowly, unable to offer anything else.  Their water, she knew, had run out, and they had no food with them and nowhere near enough ammo between them to take out the entire herd.  The situation was going to get desperate if things didn’t let up soon.

As if sensing her thoughts, her brother crossed the room towards her and stooped to offer her a hand up, though he shook with the effort of it.  His shirt was completely saturated with blood now, hers too where it was still wadded against his stomach, and he looked eerily pale in the darkness.  

'You alright?  Sure you’re not hurt at all?’ he asked, his gaze combing over her as she shook her head.

'No, I told you, I’m good.’

'Alright then, we’re gonna get you out of here.’

'What?  How?  Dean-’

'Take these.'  Ignoring her questions, her confusion, he pulled his gun from its holster and passed it over to her, forcing it into her hands when she hesitated, and then, digging in his pocket for the keys to his truck, he tugged them out and did the same.

'Dean, what are you-’

'When I give you the signal, you run, okay?  It’s pitch black out there.  If they’re distracted and you’re quiet they might not notice you straight away.  You gotta move fast though, Liv, you hear me?  No looking back.  No stopping, not for anything.’

'I-I won’t, but… Wait, Dean, what are you- What is this?’

'Love you, sis.’ He reached out a hand to ruffle her hair, and then everything slipped into slow motion as he shot her a wink, cheeks dimpling as he grinned wide, and then turned and sprinted for the window.

'No!'  The scream was punched from her gut as he launched himself through the opening and disappeared from sight. The soft groans below amplified as the corpses shifted their attention from the building to the body now within their midst, and then she heard it, a deep yell over the sound of gnashing jaws.

'Now, Liv!  Go now!’

And so she did, because what else could she do?  With trembling arms, she crawled over the crest of the window, avoiding the glass that had torn Dean to shreds and lowered herself catlike to the ground, the thud of her boots drowned out by the sickening sounds of tearing flesh.

Dean cried out in agony and she pressed her hands over her ears as she hugged the wall of the building, inching carefully past the monsters that jostled for a chance to score a taste of him, her brother, somewhere lost amongst them in the black.

And then, when she’d cleared the densest part of the crush, she did as he’d said and ran.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everybody that’s taken the time to check this story out. This is the last kind of build-up chapter so from here on out there will be a lot more Daryl, I promise. Any and all feedback is so so so appreciated and I love every single one of you that’s read, left kudos, commented, etc. so far. I hope you’re enjoying it. Happy reading!

Dean’s truck stood abandoned on the road out of the city.

Olivia was breathing hard when she reached it, pale skin flushed with exertion, sweat pasting her clothes to her body as she leaned heavily on the hood.  She’d been running for so long.  It felt like hours.  It couldn’t have been, not really, but it had felt like hours.  She’d left the snarls and snapping jaws behind some miles back, though she could still hear them echoing through her mind, along with the sickening sound of her brother’s flesh tearing, his cries of agony as they ate him alive.  She swallowed hard.  Dean was dead.  He was gone.  He’d sacrificed himself so that she could get out and now she was alone.

If she’d been thinking logically, Olivia’s mind would have drifted to the blood that had saturated his shirt, the way the colour had steadily drained from his face.  She’d have considered the damage done to his torso by the shards of glass that had sliced into him as he slithered in through the window, and she’d have known, deep down, that had he been at her side his chances of pulling through were slim.  He’d been weak and growing weaker, and he’d have felt his body growing numb as his life slowly ebbed.  But logic had been blown away by grief and guilt and anger, and so all she could hear was the deep timbre of his voice as he told her to run, that he loved her, and the pain in those familiar mossy eyes.  She’d never see those eyes again, looking back at her, staring her down when she was being a bitch.  She’d never hear his laugh as they talked about the stupid things they’d done as kids, or feel the steadying weight of his hand on her shoulder or in her own when he felt her falter, when the world got too much.  She was it now: the last Kennedy standing.  It was a burden she’d never wanted.

A choked sob forced its way up her throat, bursting out into the silence and echoing along the endless stretch of road.  Tears pricked at the backs of her eyes, spilling over before she could force them down and trickling over her cheeks, forming salty pools at the corners of her lips.  She sucked in a shaky breath and another, and then let out a guttural cry as she rocked back and kicked out at the metal in front of her, the resounding clang drowning out the sound of her misery.  The hood gave beneath the pressure of her boot, denting with a groan, and her fingers traced over it, the jagged angles that now disturbed the smooth curve of the truck’s front.  Dean would kill her if he knew.  He’d been so proud of that thing, would spend hours working on it, cleaning it up and fiddling with this and that to get it running just perfect.  If he’d been there he’d have shoved her aside so he could get straight down to hammering out the dent, not satisfied until the evidence of her outburst was completely gone, but, of course, he wasn’t there.  He’d never know.

Suddenly exhausted, her limbs leaden, Olivia dragged her feet around to the driver’s side door and tugged it open, swinging herself into the seat and resting her hands on the wheel.  It felt wrong.  It wasn’t her place to drive.  She should be over in the passenger seat, her feet propped up on the dash, drumming on her knees as Dean sang along to the radio.  That was how it should be, how it was, how it would never be again.  The keys slipped into the ignition easily and the engine roared to life.  It felt like a betrayal.  It was Dean’s truck.  It should have died with him.  It was senseless, she knew, but it would have been right somehow.  Or perhaps she was just overwrought with unspent emotion.

Her vision blurred as she turned the truck around, narrowly avoiding the jam on the other side of the road, and she scrubbed her arm over her eyes as she accelerated away, desperate to put some distance between herself and the city, the scene of what she knew would become her new worst nightmare.  It would haunt her for a long time, just like the death of her parents.  Perhaps forever.  For now, all she could do was drive.

*****

‘You think they’re still alive out there?’ Rick’s tone was serious as he questioned Andrea the next morning, one hand resting on his Python where it was holstered at his waist.  They’d returned as dusk fell, delivering the news to the group, and the mood in camp had been somber as they ate dinner and settled down to sleep, but as the sun’s first watery rays crept over the horizon he’d found himself unable to let the failed run go.  He wasn’t sure what he was looking for.  Reassurance, perhaps, that it had been the right thing to leave Dean and Olivia behind.  Or maybe a reason not to go back to stage a rescue attempt and risk somebody else getting killed.  It had gone against the grain to leave them behind, but one glimpse at the herd that had separated them from the tearful woman in front of him had told him that they weren’t in any position to take the walkers down.  They didn’t have enough people, enough ammo, and their priority had to be the protection of the camp.  So they’d fled, sprinting for the car and piling in, the wheels squealing as they took off along the highway.  His guilt had weighed heavy on him ever since.

'I-I don’t know,’ Andrea answered honestly.  'They were when I last saw them, but there were so many corpses.  I don’t see how they could have survived that.’

'They might be holed up somewhere,’ Glenn pointed out, tugging off his baseball cap so he could mop the sweat from his brow.  Like Rick, he felt responsible for the two they’d left behind.  It had been different with Merle.  He’d endangered all of their lives and his own had been a necessary sacrifice, but Dean and Liv had just been trying to help.  They didn’t deserve to go down that way.  'We could go back, take more ammo, scout around.  If they’re there we could-’

'What?’ Rick squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to listen to reason rather than wishful thinking, because he wished that Glenn’s plan was something they could pull off, truly he did.  'You saw them, Glenn.  How many were there?  Thirty?  Fifty?  More?  We don’t stand a chance if we go back there and you know it.’

’S'goin’ on?’ The new addition to the hushed discussion raised the heads of the huddled group, and Andrea shook her head as Daryl approached, a string of squirrels slung over his shoulder.  His decision to head out further to hunt had kept him out in the forest overnight and he was coated with gore, streaking his arms and smeared across the front of his shirt, but he seemed oblivious as he tossed his kills onto the hood of the car that they’d gathered around and narrowed his eyes.  'How was the city?’

'Bad,’ Rick admitted.  'Worse than we thought.’

'Ya didn’t make the hit?’

The sheriff shook his head.  'No.  There were too many of them.  We had to get out.’

'Anyone hurt?’ If the archer was truly concerned he hid it well, his face expressionless as he asked the question, though his gaze darkened at Glenn’s reply.

'It’s Dean and Liv, man.  They got cut off by the herd and we couldn’t get to them.  We had to leave them out there.’

A smirk ghosted over Daryl’s lips and he snorted through his nose.  'Course ya did.  S'what ya do, ain’t it?  D'ya chain 'em up first or did ya reckon ya’d give 'em a fightin’ chance?’

'Daryl,’ Rick warned, but the archer was already stalking away.

'Y'know, ya better hope they die out there, 'cause if that bitch makes it back there’s gon’ be hell to pay!’

'He’s right,’ Glenn spoke up.

'I know.’

*****

Olivia had driven through the night, arriving back at camp shortly after dawn.  She pulled the truck up behind Shane’s jeep, cutting the engine with a sigh and leaning her forehead against the wheel.  She didn’t want to leave the haven of her brother’s world.  It smelled like him, his scent ingrained in the leather seat that cradled her, and it was his music playing on the radio.  One of his shirts was balled up behind the seat and she reached for it now, tugging it free and slipping it on over her tank top.  It was soft against her skin and she wrapped it around her, taking a deep breath as she readied herself for what came next.  She didn’t really have a clue what that would be.

What she really wanted was to sleep.  She felt drained, exhausted, and she longed to escape her new reality for a little while, avoid the difficult conversation while she wrapped her own head around the turn of events, but, even as she climbed down from her seat, she saw Andrea hurrying towards her, eyes wide as she took in Olivia’s lone figure and the desolation writ over her face.

'You made it out.’

'Yep.’

'I-I thought you were…’ She tailed off, gaze flicking back to the truck, searching, hoping, and then, 'Where’s Dean?’

'He didn’t make it.’

'What?  No!  How-’

'The corpses got him, Andrea.  Tore him limb from limb while he screamed.  Is that what you wanna hear?’ Olivia wasn’t sure where the venom in her tone was coming from, except that the tears pooling in the other woman’s eyes were awakening a simmering rage within her.  After all, Dean wouldn’t have been out there in the first place if she hadn’t recklessly volunteered to go.  Her death wish had been Dean’s demise and suddenly she wanted more than anything to hurt her.

'But… God, I’m sorry.  I didn’t-’

'Whatever.  Guess you’ll have to find yourself a new fuck buddy, huh?’

'How did you get out?’ It was entirely likely that the accusation in Andrea’s tone was purely a figment of Olivia’s imagination, but that didn’t mean it stung any less.

'I ran.’

'You just left him?’ Now that wasn’t imaginary, nor was the incredulous look on Andrea’s face, and Olivia grit her teeth as she pushed past the older woman, intent on making it to her tent so she could find some peace.

'Yep.  Kinda like how you let Amy get bit, right?  Guess we’re both sucky siblings.’

She had a clear path now to her tent, where her sleeping bag waited for her, her headphones too and the sweet bliss of oblivion, and she quickened her pace, ducking her head to avoid meeting the eyes of anyone else that might attempt to halt her in her tracks, but she was drawn up short by a pair of dusty cowboy boots cutting across her line of vision.   _Goddammit_.

‘Olivia, you’re back.’

‘Looks like.’

‘Hey, wait up a minute.’  Rick’s hand landed on her arm as she made to step around him and she flinched away from his touch, eyes flashing as he raised his hands in surrender.  ‘Alright, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.  I just want to make sure you’re okay.  What happened out there?’

‘You already know,’ she pointed out, and he nodded with a sigh.  ‘Walkers, a lot of ‘em.’

‘We thought you were dead.’

‘Well, sorry to disappoint you.’

‘Liv, don’t-’

‘Don’t bother,’ Andrea cut him off as she stalked past, arms crossed, lips drawn into a thin line of grief or perhaps hurt - Olivia wasn’t sure and she didn’t much care.  ‘You can’t talk to her when she’s like this.  There’s no point.’

‘Like what?’ Rick’s eyes narrowed, and Olivia watched as his eyes flicked towards the truck and back to her, just as Andrea’s had, a look of realisation settling over his features.  ‘Your brother…’

‘Yep, dead.’ Olivia shrugged.  Her voice was calm, even, perhaps a little short, but that was better than the alternative.  Because she felt in that moment that she was balancing on a tightrope suspended high above and that, if she didn’t keep herself under control, if she tumbled off of one side or the other, she would completely fall apart.  She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream and shout and lash out and make everybody suffer like she was suffering.  She wasn’t sure that she’d ever come back from that.  ‘Can I go now?’

‘No, wait, what the hell happened?’

‘What do you think happened?’ There it was, the bite to her tone that she was trying so hard to restrain.  ‘You left us out there!  You saw the herd and you ran and you left us!  My brother paid the price for that and he’s gone now!  So, yeah, it’s been a hell of a night and I’m tired, so, please, I just want to sleep, okay?  I don’t want to talk about it!’

‘Shit, Liv, I-I’m sorry.  We- We didn’t know if you were alive or dead, or where you were.  We couldn’t-’

‘I don’t want to hear it,’ she hissed from between gritted teeth.  ‘Seriously, Rick, do you think there’s anything you can say right now that’s gonna make this better?’

For a moment, his jaw worked as if he intended to speak again, but all he could do was stand there uselessly, arms hanging at his sides, and the injustice of it all welled up within Olivia, overwhelming and suffocating.  He was alive, Rick, with his stupid sheriff’s uniform and his helpless expression and his wife and his kid: a whole little family unit still alive, surviving.  He’d lost nothing and he’d walked away and left her and Dean to fend for themselves, and now she… She had no-one.  She was completely alone.  The loneliness detonated in her chest like a bomb and she balled her hands into fists, fighting against the rage that had clouded over her vision like a thick red mist.

‘Hey, c’mon now.’  Shane, it seemed, had been listening from a distance, and he stepped forward now, planting himself between Olivia and Rick in an attempt to defuse the situation, but it was already far, far too late.  If she’d been allowed to crawl to her tent, to get her head down and just forget about all of it for a little while, then perhaps she wouldn’t be reaching out, planting her hands in the centre of his chest and shoving hard.  He barely moved under the force.  ‘Don’t do this, Liv, alright?  Step back.’

‘No!’ That was it.  His patronising tone, the steely glint to his eyes, had her tumbling from the wire that she’d been so delicately balanced on, and she screamed out in frustration, whirling around so she could snatch up the string of squirrels hanging from a post beside the campfire and toss it into the flames.  A horrified cry went up from those who looked on, but she didn’t care.  She was beyond it.  So what if they had to go to sleep that night without dinner?  Was that really the worst thing?  They still had their families, most of them.  They hadn’t been left out there, alone and afraid.  They hadn’t had to drive through the night with Dean’s screams echoing through their minds.

Her muscles tensed, burning with the need to strike, to kick, and she thrust her boot into the side of a sagging camping chair, piled high with neatly-folded clean laundry.  It crumpled, sending patterned cotton and viscose sprawling over the dusty ground.  Reaching for a shirt, she bunched the fabric in her hands, tearing, ripping, buttons flying in all directions as she destroyed it, shredding it with an ease that revealed the anger that was dominating her right then and there.  Strong arms wrapped around her from behind and she found herself lifted clear from the ground.  A voice was murmuring in her ear, soft and low, but she could barely make out the words.  Flinging her head back, she felt bone crunch, though the grip that held her didn’t loosen, and she wrestled to free herself, legs and elbows striking out as she fought against her captor.

It was useless.  Whoever it was, Shane she guessed, had her pinned, and eventually her growls weakened as the fight went out of her, energy expended, and her fury melted into grief and torment once more.  Her entire body shook with the force of the sobs that erupted from her chest, and her tears were like a flood, flowing down her face and soaking the tanned arms that still held her tightly.  

A softer voice spoke then, female and kind - ‘Let her go.  It’s okay, I’ve got her.’ - and she was lowered gently to the ground, her knees giving way so that she almost fell until she found herself pulled into a warm embrace, floral-scented hair tickling her nose.  Lori.

‘C’mon, let’s go sit down,’ she urged, and Olivia let herself be led blindly away and coaxed in through the opening of her tent, until she was curled in a ball with her face buried in her pillow.  

Lori stayed with her as she cried, stroking over her back and her hair, and it was so like having her own mother back, if only for a moment if she closed her eyes and sought a time in her memory when she’d been in need of maternal comfort, that it broke her heart all over again.  This was it now, all she had: the pity of strangers.  What the hell did that mean for her?

Eventually sleep stole over her, dragging her into a darkness where walkers lunged at her from every angle as she stumbled along, desperately searching for her brother.  She could hear him calling for her, but his voice was carried by the breeze so that she had no idea which way to turn.  Ragged nails scratched at her skin, jaws snapping in her face, but she fought on, kept going, unfeeling of everything but her need to find him, to have him back by her side where he belonged.  She just had to keep going.  She had to.

*****

Olivia wasn’t sure how long she’d slept.  It was dark when she woke, but, when she eased down the zip on her tent and peered out at the camp, the horizon glowed with the promise of dawn.  The only sign of life was Dale, perched in his deckchair atop the RV, staring off towards the quarry.  Her skin felt tight from the hours she’d spent crying, and she was sure her eyes would be puffy and red, but that didn’t much matter as she pulled her hair back into a messy ponytail, combing out the worst of the knots with her fingers.  She was still dressed in yesterday’s outfit: her torn jeans, tank top and Dean’s shirt, creased but still carrying the lingering scent of him.  Her boots had been removed, but she pulled them on again now, snatching up her pack and checking that it still contained some water and a couple of cereal bars before sneaking out into the chill air of the morning.

She wasn’t sure where she was going, just that she needed to do something, to fight something, and she stole into the forest unnoticed, moving quietly, the weight of her knife in her belt filling her with confidence and the drive to kill.  It was the same old routine, the same old pattern, except her vendetta was stronger than it had ever been.  She needed to feel strong, to feel alive, because otherwise all there was was pain and fear and the overwhelming sense of being completely alone.  She’d hunt, she decided.  She’d take down as many walkers as she could and if she went out doing it, then so be it.  She had nothing left to live for.

*****

‘How’s it look?’ Shane asked Lori, arching an eyebrow as she studied his nose intently.  He knew himself that it looked bad, his eyes blackened, nose swollen and crusted with blood, but he couldn’t help the natural flirtation that still existed between them, much as she’d tried to shut it down.  But she didn’t smile at his teasing, her face painted over with concern. 

‘It’s definitely broken,’ she observed, reaching up to prod the tip tentatively with her finger and frowning when he winced.  ‘You need a doctor.’

‘Yeah, well, that ain’t gonna happen.’ He straightened up, stretching out his joints and listening to them pop after another long night of sleeping on the floor.  He’d always considered himself pretty fit, in good shape, but weeks of hard living were starting to wear on him, on everyone.  Casting a glance towards the tents where most of the group were still sleeping, he asked, ‘How’s she doin’?’

‘I don’t know,’ Lori shrugged.  ‘I sat with her ‘til she fell asleep.  I’m worried about her.’

‘She’ll deal.  S’what we’ve all gotta do, right?  That’s the world we gotta live in now.’

‘I know.  I just- I’m scared she’s gonna do something stupid, Shane, that she’s gonna hurt herself.  You saw her yesterday.  She’s out of control.’

‘We’ll keep an eye on her.  Kids just grievin’ is all.  She’ll be fine.’ As Rick ducked out of the family-sized tent he shared with his wife and son, buttoning up his shirt over the white t-shirt he wore beneath, Shane nodded in greeting.  ‘Why don’tcha go check on her, huh?  She’s probably still sleepin’ it off.’

‘Alright.’  Lori paused only to press a soft kiss to her husband’s cheek as she passed him, but Rick didn’t quite manage a smile as he came to stand at Shane’s side.

‘How’s the nose?’

‘Broken,’ he admitted with a smirk.  ‘Or that’s your wife’s professional opinion, anyway.’

‘Girl got you good.’

‘That she did.’ He stooped to retie the lace of his boot, pulling it tight as he glanced up at his friend.  ‘You think she’s gonna make it through this?  Lori’s worried.’

‘I think she was a worry before she lost her brother.  Now…’ Rick tailed off.  ‘Honestly, I’m not really sure what we’re gonna do with her.’

‘She’s gone!’ Lori’s shout had the two men exchanging exasperated looks, drawing the others from their sleep as bleary faces peered out from between tent flaps.  ‘Dale, did you see anything?’

‘Well, I, er… No,’ the old man confessed.  ‘I’ve been on watch since three, but I haven’t seen any sign of life.  Can’t be watching all angles at once though.  Only got one set of eyes.’

‘Dammit,’ Rick muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.  The guilt that he’d felt since leaving the siblings behind in the city had only intensified since he’d been informed of Dean’s death and watching Olivia’s meltdown had punched a whole straight through his heart.  He remembered all too well how it had felt to think he’d lost Lori, Carl, everything he’d once held dear, and, though he’d found his way back to them, thankfully, he knew exactly what Olivia was going through.  He’d wanted to find some way to help her, to reach out to her, to make it up to her somehow, but now all he could think was that he might never get that chance.  If she died too out there, her blood would be on his hands.  ‘We gotta find her.’

‘Why?’ Shane turned on him.  ‘She’s stupid enough to go out there on her own all worked up like that, why should we risk our asses trying to track her down?’

‘Shane,’ Lori warned him, but he was determined.

‘Seriously, man, we’re running low on just about everything right about now.  We don’t got time to go off playing hide and seek in the woods, alright?  Besides, even if ya found her, what makes you think she’d wanna come back here anyway?  She take her stuff?’  He directed the last question at Lori, who nodded.  ‘So maybe she don’t wanna be found, Rick.  Who are we to argue with that?’

‘Truck’s still here,’ Daryl observed.  He’d been listening to the argument, gnawing on his thumbnail as he waited for a decision to be made, but he felt that that point couldn’t be ignored.  ‘S’her brother’s, right?  Can’t see she’d just take off ‘n’ leave it.’

‘Fine,’ Shane spread his hands, appealing to the rest of the group.  ‘So, she’s coming back.  Ain’t like this isn’t something she’s done before then, right?’

‘But not like this,’ Lori argued.  ‘Not worked up and grieving.  You saw her yesterday, she’s not thinking straight.  You really think she’s not gonna get herself into some kind of trouble out there?’

‘Way she was, she was gonna get herself in more trouble if she stuck around here.’

‘I’ll find her,’ Daryl spoke up again, drawing incredulous glances from several of the others.  The mutual disdain between the archer and the youngest Kennedy was obvious to anyone with eyes, but he only shrugged at their disbelieving stares.  ‘Was goin’ to head out to hunt again anyway since she threw our dinner in the fire, right?  Seem to manage to track her down without even tryin’ most days.  I can keep an eye out while I’m out there.’

There were murmurs of agreement from around the group, and Rick shot him a tight smile.  ‘Thanks, Daryl, that would be good.  Try and bring her home in one piece, alright?’

‘Ain’t promisin’ nothin’.’

But Daryl knew he would if he could.  Because yes, he hated the girl, hated the way she looked at him like dirt on her shoe, and the bite to her tone as she snarled at him, unprovoked.  He hated the vacant way she stared into space as she nodded along to whatever was playing on her headphones and how reckless she was as she launched herself into fight after fight with a bunch of walkers she didn’t need to go seeking.  But he also felt for her in that moment, because he knew better than anyone exactly what she was going through.  He was all alone too, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

Daryl loved the hunt.  It was the one thing in his life that he’d always been good at: tracking, noticing the near-invisible prints in the dirt, the way the undergrowth betrayed his prey as it bent and broke against their panicked flight.  When he’d been a boy, he’d found his escape in the woods that bordered the small town he’d grown up in and, after his mom had passed, he’d found his dinner there more times than he could count.  He enjoyed the challenge, the quiet, the rush of watching a rabbit or a young buck fall, quick, clean, as his bolt penetrated its hide.  But there was nothing challenging, he was finding, about tracking Olivia Kennedy.

The trail of blood had started maybe a mile inside the treeline.  Too close for comfort to the camp for sure, but that was the furthest thing from his mind as he surveyed the carnage.  For most people killing the corpses was a trial, something that went against the grain, to take the life of a creature that looked so human, and the task was carried out as efficiently as possible: a blade or a bullet through the skull and the job was done.  Move on.  But the mess that the grieving girl had left behind was something else.  Limbs were scattered through the scrub, trails of guts zigzagged over the path.  There wasn’t a single body still intact, and the rage that had driven the attack still hung in the air, poisonous and toxic, raising goosebumps over the archer’s arms.  Drawing his knife and stooping to drive it through the pulpy mess of a walker’s skull, still snapping at his toes despite having been completely separated from its body, Daryl groaned.  What the hell had he let himself in for, volunteering to track her down?  It was becoming increasingly obvious that the girl had lost her mind.  He wasn’t sure he was prepared to deal with that.

A gap in the trees allowed the sun to beat down on the lone man as he pressed on, dampening his hair and sending trickles of sweat running down the back of his neck.  He was glad that he’d torn the sleeves from his shirt, easier to move that way, to handle his bow without the restriction of the fabric around his biceps and joints, though he idly regretted the tank top beneath as the heat cloaked him.  It was still early and he knew it would only get worse, but there was nothing to be done about it, so he stepped from the path, moving back into the shade of the canopies above and finding that he was rewarded by yet more sliced and diced bodies, Liv obviously following the same instinct to hide from the scorching rays.  He rolled his eyes, moving on, eyes combing the ground for the now recognisable tread of her boots.  He wasn’t sure how much of a headstart she had on him, but it was obvious that she was on a mission.

As he continued to follow the trail of death and destruction that Olivia had left in her wake, his mind wandered back to the first time he’d met the siblings.  It hadn’t been long after he and his brother had joined the quarry camp, recognising the value of safety in numbers after barely making it out of town alive.  They’d been hunting, or rather Daryl had been hunting while Merle had been running his mouth off about something or other, the way he did more and more as the silence of the dying world set in.  They’d heard the sudden loud grinding of an engine reverberating through the trees, choked and stuttering, and they’d started cautiously towards it.  Even in the early days they’d known that noise like that would draw the walkers in quick as anything and it had seemed right to lend a hand, or, as Merle had drawled, peering from the treeline to where steam billowed from beneath the hood of a blood-smattered truck, parked haphazardly across the road, ‘Might as well see if they got anythin’ worth takin’ ‘fore they get turned into monster chow.’

Dean had been folded beneath the hood, cursing quietly as he tinkered with the inner workings of the vehicle and hissing when the hot metal seared his fingertips.  He’d been welcoming from the out, shrugging at Daryl’s offer of help with a lopsided grin.  ‘Usually take better care of her than this.  Just with everything that’s been going on, guess I was gunning her harder than I thought.’

‘It happens,’ Daryl had acknowledged.  ‘Want me t’ take a look?’

‘You a mechanic?’

‘I know some stuff.’

‘Gonna cost ya though,’ Merle had spoken up then, tearing his gaze away from Olivia who had been sitting sideways in the passenger seat, door open, legs swinging, eyes rolling as she waited for her brother to get them back on the road.  Daryl had barely noticed her before, too caught up with checking for any geeks that might be headed their way, but he’d stepped around his brother then, shaking his head.

‘Don’t be stupid, man.  They ain’t got nothin’ we need.  Let’s just get ‘em on their way, huh?’

‘Gotta be worth somethin’, little brother.’ Again his lascivious gaze had fallen on the younger Kennedy and she’d slid from her seat, eyes narrowed as she drew a deadly looking knife from her belt.  

‘How about you just get going before I castrate you, asshole?’

‘Liv,’ Dean warned, wiping a smear of grease from his cheek with the back of his arm.  ‘C’mon, they’re just trying to help.’

She’d turned her attention to Daryl then and he’d felt his body flush with the warmth of humiliation as her gaze locked with his own before travelling slowly downwards to the battered toes of his worn-out boots, her lips twisted in a sneer. ‘They’re just a pair of no-good redneck losers, Dean.  You really think they can help us?’

‘Why, ya li’l-’ Merle had started, but he’d been cut off by the slam of the hood being closed.

‘You better hope they can, sis, ‘cause it’s getting dark and we’re pretty much screwed right now,’ Dean had ground out, and Daryl could sense the other man gritting his teeth as he was too.  Sister, he’d called her, he noticed.  Damn, the girl was driving him crazy and he’d only been in her presence for a minute, maybe two.  He found himself softening towards the guy who’d found himself unlucky enough to be stuck with her.  Blood had a lot to answer for, he’d thought, casting a quick glance towards Merle whose expression had darkened with a dangerous scowl.

When the tension had threatened to become overwhelming, angry eyes glaring in all directions as hostility radiated from those around him, Daryl cleared his throat, tipping his head back towards the trees.  ‘Got a camp not far from here.  Ain’t much but there’s food, tools.  Reckon ya can crash with us tonight ‘n’ we’ll head back out here at first light, see if we can’t get ya goin’ where yer headed.’

‘A  _camp_?’ Olivia had spat the words as if they’d disgusted her, her disdain written clearly over her face.  ‘With you two?  You’ve gotta be kidding me!’

‘Don’t have a lot of options here, Liv,’ Dean pointed out, and she tossed her dark waves back over her shoulder, green eyes flashing.

‘There’s more of us,’ Daryl told her, though why he was trying to convince them he really didn’t know.  It wasn’t as if he cared whether they lived or died, more that, having found them, he now felt an inexplicable sense of responsibility towards them and he sure didn’t want any living human blood on his hands.  ‘Women, kids, old man with an RV.  It’s safe.  Safe as anywhere these days at least.’

That had sold it to Dean and he’d rounded the truck, pulling open the driver’s side door and tugging a pack out from behind the seat.  ‘Grab your things, Liv, we’re going.’

‘You’re serious?’

‘Deadly.  So, ‘less you fancy a night out on your own in the woods, get moving.  C’mon!’

Daryl scoffed now as he scrambled down a steep bank, following the scuff marks left behind by Olivia as she’d skidded down sometime before him.  He should have sensed then what a pain in the ass she’d be, should’ve left them there, turned and walked away as Merle had so obviously been inclined to do by the grim set to his jaw and the quiet mutterings of discontent that had followed Daryl as he’d led the group back to camp.  But, then, he thought, Dean had proven his worth almost straight away.  He’d mucked in that first night, taking a shift on watch, helping the women cook dinner, winning them all over with his charm and easygoing manner.  When he’d ventured out with Daryl the following day to get the truck going again he’d asked whether they’d be okay to stay rather than assuming they had a place there, and he’d nodded, unable to say no despite the way the girl wrinkled her nose whenever he passed by and the sullen sulk she’d sunk into as the group had chatted around the campfire.  Truly, he was sorry that the guy was gone, that he’d met his end in such a violent way, but that was the world these days.  People died and they died bloody and that was just something they all had to live with.  No point going off the deep end.  He hadn’t.

It was just before noon when he heard the first sounds of a scuffle.  The rasping snarls of agitated biters floated towards him on the slight breeze, then, as he turned in that direction, the thud of bodies hitting the ground and the soft squelch of flesh tearing.  He hesitated for just long enough to slide a bolt into place in his bow, swinging it up in front of him and holding it steady as he quickened his pace and hurried to Olivia’s aid.  He didn’t know it was her, of course, couldn’t be sure, but he could hear guttural shouts now, almost screams, raw and primal over the noise of the fight, and he’d be surprised if there was another girl alive capable of sounding that feral.  His boot caught on the root of a tree, jutting up from the ground, and he tripped, catching himself before he fell and recovering his balance.  He was getting close, he could feel it, smell the rotting stench of death in the air, and then he caught a glimpse of movement between the trees.  He inhaled sharply.  There were more than he’d initially thought, ten, maybe twelve corpses, all crowding round a central point, jostling for place, jaws snapping.

‘Hey, assholes!’ Multiple heads turned towards him as he stepped into the clearing, taking aim.  If he thought he heard Olivia mumble a curse then he told himself he must be wrong, that she couldn’t be that ungrateful, and he threw himself into the fray, letting loose a bolt and feeling a rush of satisfaction when the nearest walker dropped.  There was no time to load another as half of the crowd split away, heading for him with bloodlust shining in their yellowed eyes, so he sprang forward, light on his feet, tugging free the one that protruded from the forehead of the monster that had fallen and tightening his hold on it, angling it so that he could use it as a spear.  Time and again he lashed out, blood spurting up his arms and mixing with the sweat that coated his skin, the adrenaline flooding his system strengthening his blows and speeding his movements until he felt like a blur, unable to find the time to so much as catch his breath as he fought for his survival and for hers.  Twice he glanced up, hoping to catch a glimpse of her, checking that she hadn’t been overwhelmed, but she was still hidden from his view by the corpses that remained, and there was nothing he could do but continue to fight until the last body slumped to the ground.

His muscles burned.  His joints complained bitterly as he straightened up, stretching his back as he tossed the cracked and weakened bolt to the side, filling his lungs with deep, greedy breaths.  The stench of rotting flesh was heavy in the air but he didn’t much care in that moment, letting the oxygen relax the tension in his body, his pulse gradually slowing to normal as he stood back to survey the damage.  

The forest floor was red with sticky crimson gore and the freshly dead undead were piled carelessly all around.  And in the centre of it all stood the girl he sought, one hand on her hip as she fixed him with a ferocious glare.

‘You have got to be fucking kidding me right now!’

He grit his teeth, swallowing down the barbed retort that had been poised on the tip of his tongue.  He’d told the group he’d bring her back alive, he reminded himself.  He was on his own now without Merle and if he went back without her and they kicked him out… Well, he’d have signed his own death warrant.  ‘Ya snuck out ‘fore dawn.’

‘Yeah, I did.’  There was no hint of remorse in her voice, her grief masked by fury, something Daryl knew all too well.  ‘Because I wanted to be alone.  What the hell are you doing here?’  She didn’t give him time to reply.  ‘Oh, let me guess, you were  _hunting_ again, right?  Why the hell can’t you just stay out of my way?’

‘Ya got people worried, Liv.  I told ‘em I’d keep an eye out for ya.’

‘Why?  Why do you even care?  Why do they?’

‘’Cause yer one of us.’

‘No.’  She shook her head.  ‘No, Dean was one of you.  He wanted to be.  He thought we needed you.  Well, look how well that turned out for him.’

Daryl swallowed hard.  Though her voice was icy cold he could see the pain in her eyes and he wasn’t sure quite what to do with it.  He wasn’t the sort of person who could find the right way to pull her into his arms and hold her even if he wanted to, which he didn’t.  The girl was a grade A bitch and the only reason he was giving her the time of day was because her brother had died and he just felt so damn sorry for her.  But he knew she wouldn’t want his pity any more than his feeble attempts at offering comfort.  ‘Look, I told ‘em I’d take ya back, alright?  Y’ain’t in the right state of mind to be out here right now ‘n’ no one’s blamin’ ya for that.  They just don’t want’cha to get yer ass bit.’

‘Is that right?’ She drew herself up, folding her arms over her chest, the blade of her knife still visible where she clutched it in her fist.  ‘And is that what you want, Daryl?  You want to drag me back to camp and keep me safe, huh?  Wrap me up in cotton wool so the world can’t hurt me anymore?’  She scoffed.  ‘You’re so full of shit.’

‘I’m just doin’ what’s asked o’ me,’ he told her, his own voice clipped, unfeeling.  There was no way he was going to tell her he volunteered for this, not a chance.  That would only bring more ridicule and his hackles were already raised despite his best attempts at being reasonable.  ‘Rick’s leadin’ things now ‘n’ he was gon’ come out here himself but he’s got more important things to worry about.  S’got the kid.  Shouldn’t have to be haulin’ his ass through the woods trackin’ down some stupid girl who don’t know how to keep herself from gettin’ killed.’

‘I know how to look after myself.’

‘Yeah?  That what was happenin’ when I showed up?  ‘Cause ya sure looked like ya’d gotten yerself surrounded.  Would’a been walker chow if I hadn’t stepped in when I did.’

‘I would’ve handled it.’

‘Bullshit!’  His temper was slipping away from him and he was breathing hard, he found, chest puffed out like some kind of alpha male, like Merle.  This wasn’t getting them anywhere and the sound of the fight and now their raised voices were only going to bring more of the dead their way.  ‘Look, we don’t got time for this.  Let’s just get movin’, alright?  Andrea’s out fishin’, might even bring back somethin’ for dinner tonight after ya burned what little we had.  C’mon.’

If he’d blinked in that moment he might have missed the way Olivia flinched at the sound of Andrea’s name, might not have noticed how she seemed to deflate for a fraction of a second before rallying herself, determined not to show a sign of weakness.  But he didn’t.  He was watching, attuned to every movement, every expression that flashed across her face, and he saw every emotion that she fought through to find her composure once again, the quiver of her bottom lip tightening until her mouth was just a dusky pink slash against the paleness of her skin.

‘I can’t go back there, not right now.  I won’t.’

‘That was this is then?  Yer leavin’?’

‘Why not?’

‘Ya left yer brother’s truck,’ he pointed out, and she dropped her gaze to the floor.  ‘Figure yer gon’ want that one of these days.’

‘Maybe,’ she admitted.  ‘But not right now.  Do you know what it’s like to be completely alone, Daryl?’  He cocked his head to one side and she backtracked quickly.  ‘Okay, stupid question.  Of course you do.  Except it kinda seems to suit you.  You enjoy the peace and the quiet.  Dean was all I had left and I’m alone now and I hate the silence of it.  And I won’t just sit in that camp and be a burden while people feel sorry for me.’

‘Liv-’

‘No.  I won’t do it.  I just… I need some space, that’s all.  I need to figure things out on my own for a little while and I need to just… I need to do this.’  She gestured around her and he huffed a sigh of exasperation.  ‘I know you think it’s dumb but I don’t really care what you think.  I can look after myself.  I have to.  I’m all I’ve got.’

‘That ain’t true.’

‘Oh please.’  She smirked, running a hand through her hair and releasing it from the tie that held it back from her face.  ‘Please stop acting like you care.   You don’t.  Nobody does, not really.  So, just let me go, okay?  I don’t need you.  I don’t need anyone.’

With that, she span on her heel and walked away, backpack bouncing with the force of her strides as she picked her way across the clearing and disappeared into the shadows that lay beyond.  Daryl growled.  God, it would be so easy to do the same, turn and head back without her, tell them she’d flat out refused and that she wasn’t their damn problem anymore, but would they believe him?  He wasn’t sure.  After Merle, the way he’d reacted, going off on them, dragging them all back out there to find him… He’d been distant since then, he knew, unable to hold back the waves of hostility that emanated from him, because he blamed them, though he tried his hardest not to.  His brother was an ass, yeah, no denying that, but the way he’d gone out - chained on a roof, forced to cut off his own hand - it wasn’t right for anybody to die that way.  It just wasn’t.  So, maybe they’d think this was some kind of twisted revenge for him.  Maybe they’d shrug off his explanations and decide in their own rational minds that he’d left Olivia out there like they’d left Merle.  Maybe.  It was a risk he wasn’t willing to take.

‘Goddammit.’  With another growl, deep and rumbling somewhere in the pit of stomach, he hitched his bow further up his shoulder and forced himself to start walking once again.  She couldn’t have got far.  He’d track her from a distance, safe from the venomous hatred that she poured out whenever he got close, keep an eye on her, keep her safe until she was ready to go back.  He didn’t have a choice.  


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to get this chapter out. I took a little bit of a mental health break from writing for a few weeks but I'm back now and hopefully this fic will get back on track. As always, thank you for reading!

The pain was still there.  It didn’t seem to matter how far she walked, how many walkers she killed, how her muscles ached and her eyes stung with exhaustion: it all faded to nothing in the face of her grief. It was agonising, like a bullet had buried itself in her heart and refused to be dislodged.  A lump had formed in her throat, ever present and tasting of bile so that sometimes Olivia thought she might choke on it, but she decided that it was only because she hadn’t pushed far enough yet.  That was the only possibility she could cope with in that moment.  It couldn’t be that this was just her now, an empty shell with nothing left, nothing holding her together.  She couldn’t live that way and so she had to believe.  At some point it would be possible to outrun it, the loss of Dean, the loneliness, and so she kept on going, fighting her way through the forest, just her and her trusty knife and the undead.

She was unaware that she was being tailed.  Her focus was on the present, on the path before her and whatever corpse was in reach and she paid no attention to what lay behind, the near-silent footsteps of the archer as he watched from afar, always within earshot though always out of sight.  As far as she knew she was alone as she’d so vehemently insisted she wanted to be, and she tried so hard to like it that way.  It wasn’t easy.  It had been one thing to head out into the forest for a few hours each day, do her thing, vent her frustrations and then return to a hot meal, friendly faces and the familiar company of her brother.  But to face that solitude for hour after endless hour each and every day was wearing on her, like a dark cloud hovering over her head ready to release a downpour of misery when she felt least prepared.  She didn’t sleep, too afraid of the images that would plague her dreams and the monsters that lurked in the shadows, and she didn’t pause to eat, nibbling on a cereal bar from her bag only when her hunger became impossible to ignore.   She just continued to plant one foot in front of the other and keep moving.

*****

Daryl huffed a quiet sigh as he watched Olivia surge onwards despite the fading light, the shadows beneath the trees growing darker and longer as the sun sank slowly towards the horizon.  She hadn’t stopped the previous night, stumbling blindly through the undergrowth as though oblivious to the risks.  Despite every instinct screaming at him to find a place to rest and make camp, he’d gritted his teeth and followed her, squinting through the black and relying on the sound of her boots crunching against the ground to guide him.  His hands had ached where they gripped his bow, knuckles white with tension, and he’d felt a lot like the prey he so often hunted - vulnerable, exposed - but still he’d kept up, refusing to let her stray too far away.  He’d made a promise to bring her back alive and he was determined not to break it, though another night on the move wasn’t at all appealing.   Cursing under his breath as she slid down a steep bank into the denser forest that lay beneath, he concealed himself behind a thick trunk, watching for the direction she took and waiting for her to disappear from sight before he rolled his eyes and descended via the same route.

*****

Olivia hadn’t been aware that she was following the light until she broke through the treeline.  It had been a mistake heading down into the denser forest, she’d realised that as soon as she’d reached the bottom.  There were fewer clearings, less space to fight and shorter sightlines for spotting walkers meaning they were far more likely to sneak up on her unnoticed, but she’d been so bone weary that she couldn’t bring it upon herself to clamber back up the steep slope.  So she’d pressed on, almost numb with exhaustion, her skin stiff from the gore that had dried over her arms, crusty from the heat and stinking of death and decay.  She hadn’t been paying much attention to where she was going, just letting her instincts carry her forwards, but then she’d broken free of the darkness just in time to see the great burning orb of the sun sink behind the buildings that faced her.  They weren’t houses as far as she could tell, but stores, boarded up and abandoned, and she edged forward, the long grasses reaching up past her knees as she scanned left and right for any sign of danger.

Finding none, she took another step forward, and another, and another, before finally resuming her previous pace and striding towards the squat brick structures.  It wasn’t a town, far from it, just a pitstop between here and there, somewhere and some place else; a layby for weary travellers to pull in and refuel or stock up on supplies.  The street out front was dusty, rusted trucks and rundown cars neglected here and there just as they had been in Atlanta but on a much smaller scale, though there was no sign of any dead or undead.  In fact the whole place seemed eerily empty, but she figured she could use some real sustenance if there was any to be had, so she cast aside her growing sense of unease and instead stumbled determinedly across the road.  A bench stood outside the small gas station, and she lowered herself onto it just for a moment, grimacing as it creaked beneath her weight.  Reaching into her pack, she tugged free a bottle of water and took a small sip, fully aware of how little she had left.  It soothed the dry burn of her throat and she took another, before re-screwing the lid and tucking it away. 

It felt strange to be still.  Olivia sucked a deep lungful of breath in through her nose, holding it for a moment or two before parting her lips to release it, feeling a little of the tension ebb from her body.  The balls of her feet ached and her shoulders complained as she rolled them, stiff from the fights that she’d engaged in over the past couple of days, using her arms to swipe and punch and stab.  But though the stillness allowed her joints and muscles a little time to recover, it also allowed her mind to wander to things she’d rather not think about.  Her head jerked as her brother’s agonised scream rang in her ears and she wiped a hand over her eyes as tears sprang to the surface, salty and hot.  If she allowed them to close for more than the split second it took to blink she’d see him disappear beneath the mass of jostling bodies again, she knew it, and she couldn’t bear it, couldn’t bear the grief that was growing more and more intense as her fingers gripped the splintered wood beneath her.

It was no good.  She couldn’t stop, not yet, and so she eased herself to her feet once more, pushing down her pain and tiredness and shouldering her pack as she scanned the storefronts once again, taking in the options for scavenging that were laid out before her. The gas station had already been raided, she guessed, from the way the door hung open on its hinges, swinging slightly in the breeze, as had the convenience store beside it that had no glass left in its front window and only the remnants of boards left hanging uselessly on either side.  The drugstore would contain nothing that she needed in that moment, and she couldn’t think about the future, couldn’t even consider it, not yet, and so she meandered further along, running her hand through her hair and sighing heavily.  She was about to give up when her eyes landed on the final store that stood in the ramshackle row, seemingly untouched by the apocalypse with its windows and door still in tact.

_Liquor Store._

She hesitated for a moment as she considered the hit.  Alcohol was a bad idea.  She knew it, honestly she did.  It would leave her vulnerable, impair her reactions and her ability to fight, and most likely bring all of those pesky emotions she was struggling to push down raging towards the surface.  And yet, if she drank enough, if she pushed past her limits and just kept on going, she’d push past that emotion and sink into the numbing depths of oblivion.  It had worked for her before, many a time.  One of the perks of working at the dive bar on the edge of her hometown had been the late nights when the last punters had staggered on home and she’d been left alone to clean up and indulge in whatever took her fancy - something fiery and warm that would allow her to forget the pressure of the expectations that rested on her shoulders and the disappointment that they would surely lead to.  Yes, she was no stranger to drinking to forget.

Suddenly, the need for whiskey, to feel the liquid heat of it as it trickled down her throat, was overwhelming and, decision made, she quickened her pace, marching up to the door and trying the handle hopefully.  Locked.  Well, of course.  Reaching into her pocket, she groped for the bobby pin she usually carried before realising that it had been left in Atlanta, dropped during the sprint for their lives.  She cursed quietly, slipping Dean’s shirt from her shoulders and wrapping it tightly around her fist before driving it sharply through the small window above the handle.  The glass shattered with a satisfying crash and a grin quirked her lips as she shook the shards free from the fabric and pulled it back on.  Inching her arm carefully through the hole she’d created, she scrabbled blindly for the key and, finding it, twisted it in the lock with a click and let herself inside, thanking God for the lax security only found on the back roads.

The gloom was impenetrable to begin with and it took a moment for her eyes to adjust as she span in a slow circle, taking in the multitude of bottles, all shapes and sizes, filled with liquid, clear, glowing amber and deep red.  The choice was endless and yet the familiar print of the Jack Daniels label called to her from the other side of the store, its pull almost magnetic, and she moved towards it, trailing her fingers over the smooth wooden shelves, surprised when they came away clean of dust or grime.  The air was musty, stale, as if the store had been closed up for a long time, but free of the decay that she’d become so accustomed to, that she herself wreaked of after a couple of days out in the wild.  She vaguely wondered whether maybe there was still somebody there, someone taking care of the place, but the golden glint in the bottle before her tore her thoughts away before she could consider the idea fully, and she didn’t notice the creak of the floorboards behind her as she pulled it from the shelf.

*****

Hidden in the treeline on the other side of the street, Daryl swore out loud.  It had been bad enough having to hang back and watch the girl fighting for her life time and time again, his muscles stiffening as he fought the urge to step in, but now the idea of having to do the same whilst she was drunk out of her head formed a knot in his stomach.  How in the hell was he supposed to keep her alive in that state?  What the hell was she even thinking?  Not for the first time he recognised something of his brother in her, and it wasn’t something he liked, but again it only increased his resolve not to leave her.  He’d noticed the parallels with Merle too many times before, but he’d thought she was smarter, that was all, less likely to self-destruct.  Still, it turned out he was wrong and he guessed he’d just have to be ready to save her ass again.  He narrowed his eyes, leant back against the rough surface of the bark behind him and waited. 

He hadn’t been waiting long when he heard it, the loud crash followed immediately by the sounds of a scuffle, a body hitting the ground, and then a raised voice, deep and male and dripping with accusation. 

‘What in the holy hell d’ya think you’re doin’, little girl?’

‘Shit.’  Daryl darted across the street, his bow raised, though he thought twice before bursting in through the door that Olivia had left unlocked.  He’d only heard the one voice, but that didn’t mean there was only one other survivor in there and if he went in half-cocked and found himself outnumbered neither of them would get out alive.  Instead he cupped a hand over his eyes and peered in through the window, squinting through the miniscule gap between the boards on the inside.  He could just make out a couple of dark shapes moving around, Olivia’s shorter, her arms raised in defence, and the man’s tall and broad with a rotund stomach that jutted out in front of him.  ‘Shit,’ he murmured again, gluing his feet to the ground and wondering what the hell he should do next.

*****

Olivia blinked dazedly through the gloom inside the store, only thin rays of light filtering in between the boards over the window falling over the face of her attacker.  His eyes were flashing with anger and far too close together, and he had a crooked nose that looked like it had been broken one too many times.  The blow he’d landed on her had taken her by surprise, sending her headfirst into the bottles she’d been studying on the shelf, and she could feel the sticky heat of blood as it trickled from a deep cut on her forehead.  His gaze followed the trail of crimson and for a brief moment the anger slipped into something softer, more conflicted.

‘I was just looking for a drink,’ she muttered, using her arm to wipe over her face, grimacing when the action increased the sting of the wound.  ‘What the hell’s your problem?’

Her words seemed to harden him against her once again, and he sneered.  His stomach strained against the stained fabric of his vest and his meaty fingers tightened around the cool metal of his shotgun, the butt of which he’d driven viciously into the back of her head just moments before.  ‘So you admit it?  You’re lookin’ to steal from me?’

‘Not sure it counts as stealing anymore, man.’

‘Well, this here’s my store and s’my liquor you’re after, ain’t it?’

Olivia frowned.  ‘You know the world, like, ended, right?’

‘Don’t matter none!  Still my store!  I kept the looters out when they was runnin’ wild!  I told ‘em it don’t matter if the dead are walkin’, they got another think comin’ if they reckon they’re gonna come in here and steal from me!’

‘You’re serious?’  She shook her head.  ‘So, you’ve been here this whole time?  You haven’t left to scavenge or-‘

‘Oh, I take what I need.  Reckon it ain’t my fault if the cowards have taken off and left their goods for the takin’, but I’m still here and I’m tellin’ ya, y’ain’t taking none of my shit, ya hear me?’

‘You’re crazy.’  Olivia rolled her eyes, tossing her hair over her shoulder.  She sucked in a deep breath and the pungent scent of stale alcohol and sweat assaulted her senses, and she realised then that he’d been indulging in his own product while locked up alone.  ‘Ahh, I see what this is.  You want it all for yourself, huh?  Can’t cope with the new reality so you’re just gonna sit and drink your way through your supplies until you’re drunk enough to end it?  I’m pretty sure that makes you the real coward, doesn’t it?’

Again she wasn’t ready for the blow that landed across her jaw, the crack of his knuckles as he backhanded her ringing in her ears as she was knocked to the ground.  Her head span, dots swimming in front of her vision as the room around her blurred, but she forced herself back to her feet, swaying slightly as she planted her hands on her hips.  Her survival instincts were kicking in now, registering the threat even as her tongue itched to spew more venom at the asshole who loomed over her.  She took a step back towards the door, lips curling in a smirk as she ran her eyes over the brute, from the top of his head to the toes of his boots and back again.  His attention seemed to be locked on the back of his hand, his fingers flexing as though he couldn’t quite believe that he’d lashed out as he had.  ‘Fine, y’know what?  I’m not qualified to deal with your kinda psycho, okay?  I don’t have time for this.’

‘Nah.’  He shook his head as he advanced on her, his grip back on his gun, the barrel brushing against her chest as he drew closer.  ‘Nah, see, ya damaged my property, girl.  Ya broke my window.  Ya broke a whole shelf of bottles too from what I can see with that hard head of yours.  Ya owe me!  Ya really think I can just let ya leave?’

‘I don’t owe you anything, asshole.’

‘Yeah, ya do.  And y’ain’t going nowhere ‘til ya’ve worked off ya debt.  Ain’t like there are no cops around to do justice no more.  Man’s gotta do it himself these days.’

‘You’ve gotta be kidding me!’

‘Oh, I surely ain’t!’

‘You really think I’m gonna stay here?  For real?  You can go fuck yourself!’

Another blow, the butt of the rifle connecting sharply with her temple, his movements surprisingly quick given his size and the inebriated state he was in, and Olivia slumped to the ground, unconscious.

*****

It was her sharp tongue that did it, Daryl thought, as he waited uselessly outside the store.  He’d seen Olivia drop like a stone, watched as the dark mass of a man inside had picked her up and draped her over his shoulder before disappearing down a corridor towards the rear of the store, and now he felt helpless.  Should he go charging in and just hope and pray that he got to her in time, and that there weren’t a dozen other armed men lurking somewhere inside, or should he bide his time, wait for the right moment, play it smart?  He didn’t know.  What he did know was that he’d wanted to lash out at the girl many a time when she’d been mouthing off at him, her attitude cutting like a knife as acid dripped from every word, and he was half-sure it was that that had gotten her into this position once again.  Couldn’t just apologise, could she?  Couldn’t make nice, act helpless, beg for him to let her go?  No.  She had to come out swinging every damn time.  Well, she was paying for it now.  He just hoped she lived long enough that he’d be able to point out her mistake.


	6. Chapter 6

Olivia could hear every thud of her heart pounding in her ears as she blinked dazedly through the darkness.  Her brain felt fuzzy, as if she’d woken up after a long night of overindulgence and, when she went to brush her hair back from her face, she found that she couldn’t move, her wrists and ankles tightly bound.  She fidgeted uncomfortably, her spine scraping against the hard surface she leant against and, as she stuck out her elbows, attempting to ease herself into a more upright position, the cool surface they met, curving gently upwards, told her she was in a bathtub.  Somewhere deep inside she knew that panic should be setting in. She was trapped, who knew where, and she had a vague image in her mind of the hulking beast of a man who’d attacked her, drunk and raging, but somehow she was strangely numb to it all. It was as if, when Dean had died, he’d taken her ability to feel with him, leaving her with a hollow heart and only the nagging ache of grief somewhere in the pit of her stomach.

It wasn’t that Dean was the first person she’d lost.  Even her parents hadn’t earned that title, though she’d felt as if they’d each taken a precious part of her when they’d been torn apart – her humanity maybe, or her soul.  Something important, vital even. No, her experience with loss had started long before the world had gone to hell. There’d been her sweet nana just a couple of years ago, who’d simply slipped away into the night leaving behind only the tantalisingly sweet scent of sherbet lemons and the memory of feeling completely accepted by another person.  She’d been a bit of a wild child back in her day by all accounts and looked on Olivia as a kindred spirit, and it had been nice to feel that there was somebody in her life that she wasn’t letting down. And before that there’d been her grandfather, a big, booming man with a laugh that could be heard down the other end of the street. He’d been stolen from her by cancer, slow and silent in its attack, so that by the time anyone had realised what was going on it had been far too late.  Her uncle had died in a car accident when she was a little girl, just young enough that his death only really registered as an absence. He’d just been gone and she hadn’t really understood how or why. And then of course there was the death that had shaped the course of her life completely, that had changed the expectations placed upon her until they felt almost unbearable and left her feeling as if she was only really half a person, despite having no memory or knowledge of the event at all.

A loud crashing noise tore her from her reverie and she jerked back to alertness as a door in the corner of the room flew open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang.  The man that had just been a dark shadow in her mind loomed large as he stepped inside, a single flickering candle flame illuminating his face, and she found her eyes combing over his ruddy cheeks and bloodshot eyes.  He looked mean, just as she was sure he had before, but he was also older than she’d expected, his skin heavily lined and his hair wiry and greying. He was still clasping a bottle in his hand, almost empty now, the remaining liquid sloshing around as he shuffled closer and sank down onto the closed toilet seat with a groan.

‘How’re ya doin’, kid?’  It hadn’t been what Olivia was expecting and she attempted a shrug, waiting cautiously to see what he’d do next.  ‘Ya scared me for a minute there. Thought I’d killed ya or somethin’. Ya been out for a while.’

‘Well, that’s the risk you take when you attack random strangers, I guess.’

‘Ya was in my store, girl.  What the hell else was I s’posed to do?’

 When she didn’t reply, he sighed heavily and leant his elbows on his knees, taking a final swig of his drink before tossing the bottle carelessly aside.  It disappeared into the shadows. ‘Still, ya was a lot younger than I thought once I got up close. Ya remind me of my granddaughter. Or my own girl was she was a young’un.’

‘Yeah?  Did you beat on them too?’

The man’s face fell and Olivia heard him grinding his teeth together, his jaw working continuously for a few moments before he shook his head.  ‘S’the booze. Makes me angry. Always has done. Y’know, I was clean nearly twenty years ‘fore the damn rapture came.’

‘The rapture?  You think that’s what this is?’

‘S’gotta be, ain’t it?  Lord finally had enough of our goddamn bullshit and decided to do somethin’ about it.’  He shifted in his seat and Olivia thought she saw a hint of emotion in his eyes, but he blinked and it was gone.  ‘ I shouldn’t be here no more, I know that. I ain’t a good person. Lost just about everythin’ that ever meant a damn thing to me ‘cept this store.  S’why I gotta keep it goin’, ya see. S’why it’s gotta stay like it was.’

‘You’re crazy.’

‘Might well be, but I figure in this world ya gotta hold on to what ya got.’

‘And that includes me now?’  The binds around her wrists were biting into her skin, burning, and she raised them up in front of her to draw the man’s attention to them.  ‘This kinda hurts you know.’

‘Well, I’m sorry.  S’necessary though, goin’ on the attitude ya was spoutin’ at me downstairs.’

‘I’m a person.  You can’t just decide that I belong to you!’

‘Ya smashed up my store.’

‘I was thirsty!’

‘Don’t matter!  Ya owe me!’ Despite the harshness of his words, there was something in his tone – sadness, regret – that Olivia latched on to, widening her eyes and letting her bottom lip jut out, the look that had always made Dean cave in to whatever she was asking of him.

‘Look, you don’t seem like an unreasonable man, even if you have more liquor than blood pumping through your system right now.  What is this really about? You really gonna keep me here?’

His gaze dropped from hers, darting around the room before focusing on his own meaty fingers as he laced them together in his lap.  ‘Could use the company, if I’m bein’ honest. S’been a long time since I saw another person.’

‘I get that,’ she admitted.  ‘But that doesn’t make this right.’

She felt his hesitance, saw the guilt that flashed across his face, cast in amber from the candle that he’d set down on the sink, but there was also a defiant glint in his eye, a determination that formed a lump in her throat.

‘Look, it ain’t forever, alright?  Jus’ til ya fix up what ya broke.

 Maybe after that ya might wanna stay anyway.  It ain’t so bad here. We don’t get too many of the dead ones roamin’ through. Ya could be safe.’

‘There’s no such thing,’ she snarled, frustrated by the way he was trying to justify his actions.  ‘And if you think there is then you’re delusional. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to keep you company and I sure as hell don’t want to waste my time fixing the broken window of a store that’s never going to be used again!  Everyone’s dead, don’t you get that? It’s over! It’s all over!’

She watched as his hands balled into fists, bracing herself for another blow as he eased himself to his feet and towered over her.  But then, with a gruff growl, he shook his fingers loose and turned away. ‘You’re mad, I get it. But it is what it is. Now I’mma go out and find us somethin’ for dinner.  Supplies are gettin’ low and it ain’t like I was expecting a guest. Don’t go anywhere, ya hear me?’

‘Like I have a choice,’ Olivia muttered at his retreating back as he disappeared back into the corridor, taking the candle and the only source of light with him and leaving her once again cloaked in darkness.

*****

Daryl’s knees ached as he crouched low, back pressed against the wall of the building.  His crossbow rested in his lap, ready to sweep up and swiftly shoot at anyone who might appear around the corner, and his mind was racing as he tried to figure out his next move. It had been nearly three hours since Olivia had been slung over the shoulder of a thickset man with a shotgun and carried out of sight through a back door of the store, and all had been quiet since then, night falling and plunging the road into black.  There’d been no voices filtering through the boarded up windows, no sign of anybody coming and going, no thud of footsteps on the creaking floorboards inside. He still didn’t know how many people were in there, but he was also concerned that her time was running out and he knew that before long he’d have to make a decision, whether or not to take a chance and try to get her out. It could be an easy job, in and out with just a dark glower to deter the solitary occupant from trying anything, or it could lead to both of their deaths if the place had become home to another group, armed and dangerous.  He wouldn’t know until he made a move, and he gritted his teeth as he steeled himself to do exactly that. The silence was worrying him. It was now or never.

As he poised himself to move, the slam of a door closing froze him in place, and he pushed himself backwards into the brick, craning his neck to watch as a shadowy figure emerged from the store and looked both left and right before turning and heading along the parade of shops.  Pushing himself to his feet, Daryl peered further around the corner as the man gave a final glance and climbed in through a broken window, his boots crunching over the glass on the ground. As soon as he’d disappeared from view, Daryl slipped from his hiding place and made his way around to the door, relieved to see that the damage Olivia had caused hadn’t yet been repaired.  Reaching carefully inside, his fingers found the lock, and he let himself in, hesitating for a moment to take a quick scan of his surroundings before crossing to the other side of the room, through another door and up a rickety flight of stairs.

 _Be alive_ , he prayed under his breath.   _For God’s sake, be alive.  If you ain’t… Shit, I don’t know what I’mma do if you ain’t ‘cause I made a promise to the others . Be alive._

*****

She was.  Huddled in the bathtub with her wrists and ankles bound Olivia made a pathetic sight and, had Daryl not known that she was a grade-A bitch, he might almost have felt sorry for her.  Her usual stubborn glare was lost in the darkness of the room and he crept towards her, his crossbow still poised ready to use if needed.

 There’d been no sign of any other occupants in the building as he’d searched for the kidnapped girl, but that didn’t necessarily mean they were alone.  He cleared his throat, alerting her to his presence as he pushed the door open more fully, and, as she looked up at him, he practically felt her eyes roll even in the gloom of the shadows.

‘Oh man, really?  It had to be you, huh?’

He felt his own eyes narrow as he stalked towards her, leaning the bow against the toilet so he could pull his knife from his belt and stoop to cut her free, but she tugged her hands sharply away, tossing her hair back from her face so he was exposed to the full extent of her glare.  ‘Quite a mess ya got yerself into here.’

‘I don’t need your help, Dixon.’

‘Yeah, ya sure about that?’  He gestured towards the rope that confined her with the tip of his knife, smirking as she struggled against it.  ‘How exactly ya plannin’ on gettin’ out of this one on yer own?’

‘Maybe I don’t need to get out,’ she challenged him, leaning her body away from him as much as was possible in her trapped state.  ‘Maybe I’m perfectly happy here.’

He quirked an eyebrow, moving closer once again to sever her binds.  ‘Yeah, yer lookin’ real comfy.  C’mon, I ain’t got no time for games, girl.  Ain’t gonna be long ‘fore that asshole comes back ‘n’ I wanna be long gone by then.’

‘He’s gone to get dinner for us.’  She was still arguing, no longer tugging against the ropes but against him as he wielded the blade and tried to avoid nicking her skin.  ‘He’s just lonely, that’s all, wants some company.  It’s not like I’ve got anyone else to pass the time with either.’

‘Ya want company, this ain’t the way ya go about it,’ Daryl observed, finally seizing her forearm in a rough grip so he could slice through the ties and free her, watching as she rotated her wrists, rubbed red from the friction.  ‘’N’ ya got a whole damn camp o’ people worryin’ ‘bout ya back at the quarry.’ 

Olivia was fidgeting now, reaching down to unknot the rope that bound her ankles and easing herself slowly upright.  Daryl guessed her legs would be numb from so long contorted into a cramped position and offered his arm as she made to step out of the tub, but she ignored him, wavering unsteadily unsupported instead.  ‘I told you before, I’m done with them.  I just want to be alone.’

‘Tough shit.’

‘Daryl-‘

The sound of the door slamming shut downstairs interrupted her protests.

*****

Olivia could see the tension in Daryl’s muscles as he crept towards the bathroom door, his knife raised.  His footsteps barely made a sound, his tread surprisingly light given the breadth and sturdiness of his build.  Her own legs felt heavy and half-numb from her time in the bathtub, and she took a moment to knead the muscles in the back of her neck as she rolled her head, the nagging ache of a headache springing to life behind her temples.  She could hear her captor climbing the stairs now, each step creaking beneath his weight, and then the gruff rasp of him clearing his throat, still thick with alcohol.  Edging backwards, she let the shadows swallow her up, cloaking herself in the darkness as she waited for the man to reappear.

When he did, she could see the telltale glint of metal in his arms as he balanced an array of cans against his chest, and then the deep V that formed between his eyes as his expression darkened with a frown.  Somewhere deep down a tiny niggle of guilt sprung to life, that this brute of a man, no matter how rough he seemed, had spoken the truth when he’d told her he was going out to fetch them dinner, but she tamped it down.  He’d knocked her unconscious after all, tied her up, kept her there against her will.  It didn’t matter if he was lonely.  They were all lonely really, weren’t they?  Pretty soon there wouldn’t be a single person alive with any living loved ones left. 

‘And who the hell are you?’ he grunted, taking in Daryl’s menacing form as he adjusted his grip on the blade, blocking the man’s path into the room.

‘I’m a friend o’ the girl’s.’

Olivia scoffed at that, but stayed out of sight, rolling her eyes. 

‘Where is she?’

‘She’s comin’ with me.’

‘The hell she is!  She broke my damn window, smashed up my store.  She’s stayin’ ‘till she’s worked off the damage!’

‘Yer serious, man?’  Daryl’s tone was incredulous.  ‘Whole damn world’s gone t’ hell ‘n’ yer worryin’ ‘bout a broken window?’

‘Can’t just be goin’ round destroyin’ people’s property, don’t matter none what else is goin’ on.  Ya let stuff like that slide, then what’ll we be, huh?’

The archer let that go, though Olivia could sense him struggling against his need to bite back.  She’d seen that expression on his face so many times that she didn’t need to see his face to picture it.  ‘Look, we got people waitin’ on us.’

‘Yeah, right.’

‘S’true.  Got a whole camp of ‘em a few miles from here.  Ya try ‘n’ keep us yer gonna be bringin’ a whole lotta trouble down on yer ass.’ The threat was unmistakeable and yet she noticed that Daryl had lowered his blade, letting his hand drop to his side when the man before him showed no sign of going for a weapon of his own, not even a flinch that might suggest that he was considering flinging a can of beans at the stranger’s head.

‘Been a long time since I saw another livin’ person.  Ya girl was the first for… weeks, maybe longer.’

‘Yeah?’

‘S’right.  Figured… Hell, I don’t know what I figured.  Figured it’d just be me ‘til the end.’

Daryl’s knife slipped into his belt and he nodded slowly.  ‘We got weapons too, lot o’ guns.  We’re far enough out o’ the city that the dead don’t bother us much.  Could prob’ly use another pair of hands.’

Olivia’s eyes narrowed.  This wasn’t how she’d seen this going, and she felt herself bristling.  So, it didn’t matter that this guy had hurt her, tied her up.  God, if anything that probably just made him seem even more appealing a campmate to Daryl.  A hiss of air escaped through her gritted teeth and she saw Daryl hold up a hand to quiet her.

But the storeowner was already shooting him down.  ‘Can’t leave this place, man.  S’my home.’

‘It’s an empty store.  Ain’t no home, not anymore.’

‘S’where I lost my wife though. My kid.  Her kid.  I can’t… I can’t leave.’

‘Yer gon’ go mad holed up here on yer own,’ Daryl pointed out.  ‘We’ve all lost people, trust me.  Ain’t nobody left who don’t know how ya feel.  I lost my brother not too far back.  But it’s easier with a group.  Strength in numbers.’ 

‘I don’t know…’

‘And the other one, the girl ya bashed up, she just lost her brother too, the only family she had left.  S’why she did what she did.  We’re all just tryin’ to find a way through, right?’

The nagging ache in Olivia’s stomach, impossibly forgotten somehow in the drama of being rescued, sprung back to life with a vengeance, and she tried to swallow down the lump that had risen in her throat.   _Dean.  Dean is gone._   Her hands balled into fists at her sides and she fought back the red hot rage that swept over her.  Yes, he was gone, and it was because he’d been trying to provide for the group, the same group Daryl was claiming gave him strength, the same group he was trying to draw her captor into.   _No.  No, no no!_

She moved without thinking, stooping to snatch up the old man’s discarded bottle in one fluid motion and charging from her hiding place to bring it down sharply – once, twice, three times – against his skull.  The glass cracked and broke away, leaving behind a jagged edge that cut into his skin and painted his face with sticky, crimson red.  His eyes were wide, bulging bulbous in his head, and then he dropped, the cans in his arms showering the ground around him in heavy, metallic clunks.

It was over before she’d even realised what she was doing, and the bottle fell from her fingers and hit the dusty wooden floor.  Then, unable to look at the result of her outburst, the man she’d lashed out at so violently, she turned on her heel and hurried away.


	7. Chapter 7

It had taken Daryl several stunned seconds to decide his next move.  He wasn’t really sure what had happened – one minute he’d been reasoning with the man who had taken Olivia hostage, reassured by the fact that he’d made no move to attack and seemed, as Olivia had said, to just be painfully lonely and drowning his sorrows, and the next she’d been screeching like something from another world as she shattered bone and cartilage with the bottle in her hands.  And then she’d just turned and walked away, as if it hadn’t happened, as if it didn’t matter, as if she had no control over whether the man on the ground lived or died.  He’d seen her brutal side before, watched her hack and slash at walkers without a care in the world for who they were or had been, but this was different: a living, breathing person.  Yet, she’d cut him down without a second thought.

The man’s breaths had been laboured, and blood was seeping from the large gashes on his head to form a dark pool around him and, cursing quietly under his breath, Daryl realised that there was nothing he could do.  Proper medical intervention might have been able to save him, but certainly not a redneck with a rag and a half-filled bottle of water.  So, with a mumbled apology, he retrieved his bow, stepped carefully around the stricken figure and followed Olivia down the stairs and out of the store.  From what he’d seen of her, her grief had only reinforced her stubborn streak and he wouldn’t put it past her to disappear again before he could catch up.

She hadn’t.  She was standing outside, leaning against the back of a ramshackle bench, staring down at her own hands as if in a trance.  Her fingers, he noticed, were trembling, coated in the store-owner’s blood, and her shoulders were hunched, her face hidden behind a curtain of dark hair.  For a moment, he just watched her, waiting for her to register his presence, but when she didn’t he cleared his throat, causing her to jolt as if she’d been hit.

‘Y’alright?’

Wide green eyes rose to look at him though they didn’t really seem to see him until they darkened all of a sudden, narrowing into a menacing glare.  ‘Why the hell are you still following me?  Why can’t you just leave me alone?’

‘I’ll leave ya alone soon as I get yer ass back to camp, so c’mon.’  He raised his arm to gesture towards the forest on the other side of the road.  ‘Sooner we get back, sooner ya don’t ever gotta talk to me again, right?’

‘I told you, I’m not going back.’

‘So, what’s your plan, huh?  Ya just gonna wander on yer own, kill anyone that gets in yer way?  What the hell was that in there?  Yer a lot of things, girl, but a murderer ain’t one of ‘em!’

‘You’d think,’ she spat back, though he’d seen the flinch that she’d tried to mask at the sound of that word:  _murderer_.  ‘Look, when are you going to realise that I don’t care, Daryl?  I don’t care about the group, I don’t care about that guy in there, I don’t care whether I live or die anymore, ‘cause…’  She tailed off, shaking her head.  ‘’Cause what’s the point, right?  What’s the point of caring about anybody anymore?  Dean cared.  He cared about everyone.  He was always trying to do the right thing and look where that got him!’

 ‘Look, I’m sorry about yer brother but-‘

‘No, I don’t wanna hear it.’  Her eyes flashed as she pushed herself away from the bench, shouldering a pack that he hadn’t noticed until now.  She must’ve recovered it from the store on her way out, he figured, as she hitched it further up and gave him a final glance.  ‘I’ve said all I need to say, so you can run back to your little friends and tell them I’m gone, alright?’

‘’N’ what about his truck?’  It was a last ditch attempt and Daryl saw her freeze, throat bobbing as she swallowed hard before she set her face into a cold, expressionless mask.

‘Strip it for parts if you’ve gotta.  What do I care?’  She span on her heel, stalking across the road away from him with one parting remark flung over her shoulder before the dense maze of greenery swallowed her up and hid her from his sight.  ‘Don’t follow me.’

*****

Just keep walking.  Olivia knew that was what she needed to do.  Just keep putting one foot in front of the other and forget about what just happened.  Forget the feel of bone giving beneath the weight of her assault.  Forget the warmth of blood spurting over her hands.  Forget the desperate terror in the eyes that watched her in horrified disbelief.  What had she done?  Had she really killed a man?  Had she taken a life?  She hadn’t even thought herself capable of such a thing and yet, in the moment, it had been effortless, without thought, driven on by pure, red-hot rage.  It had overwhelmed her, blinding her to everything but the need to lash out, and the man before her cradling his tin cans against his chest had been an easy target.

She swallowed hard as bile rose up in her throat.  If anything, this had only confirmed that she had been right to leave the camp.  Her grief was poisonous, transforming into a toxic fury that seeped from her every pore, and she knew now how easy it was to let that take control.  What would have happened if she’d lost herself like that in the middle of the group?  They’d seen the start of it, when she’d thrown her head back and broken Shane’s nose as he tried to restrain her, but it was growing darker and more dangerous.  She was becoming dangerous.  What if it had been Carl standing in front of her when that red mist had descended in front of her eyes?  What if it had been Sophia?  She wouldn’t be able to live with herself, and so she knew that her words to Daryl had been justified.  He had to go back without her.  He couldn’t follow her forever.  It might cost him more than he was prepared to lose: his life.

 With that in mind, and knowing that there was no way the archer would give up that easy, she pushed on.

 *****

 Olivia walked through the day.  Her steps were heavy as she crunched through the undergrowth, pushing her way through the dense bushes that blocked her way, uncaring as they scratched her skin and tore at her clothes.  Every now and then, a walker crossed her path, and she took them down, quickly and efficiently, thrusting her knife into their skulls with none of the pleasure that she usually drew from the thrill of the kill.  As she wiped the smears of blood from her face, rancid and rotting, she felt tears force their way to the surface and she shook her head, refusing to let them fall.  Not yet.  It wasn’t safe yet.  For now, she had to keep going, find somewhere safe, somewhere far from anybody that she could hurt or worse.  She couldn’t give into the guilt, the grief, the misery that threatened to swallow her whole, not yet.  She had to keep going for now.

 *****

Daryl was scared.  It wasn’t something he’d ever admit, but the girl that weaved through the woods some yards away was scaring the hell out of him.  It had been one thing when she’d been wild, out of control, slicing and dicing the corpses that got in her way, but this was something else.  She didn’t break her pace, she didn’t stop to eat or drink or rest, she didn’t turn to check over her shoulder in case he might be following, which of course he was.  She just kept marching on, a vision of lifelessness whose only purpose was to move, to walk, to just get somewhere, wherever that might be.  Her kills were swift and clean, which was a small mercy in itself, but this was somehow worse – robotic, dead.  Yeah, that was it.  She reminded him of one of the dead.

Dusk was falling when he saw her finally pause and change direction, cutting across a small ditch and heading for a break in the trees.  The trunks had been thinning out for the past hour, and now he tucked himself behind one, knowing that their sparseness would only make his presence more obvious, if she even cared anymore.  But she didn’t look back, instead striding out into the overgrown grasses of a small playground that ran down one edge of a neat block of houses.  They were small but sturdy, apparently empty going by the blanket of silence that hung over the estate, and as he watched, she went from window to window, scoping the area out, just as he would have done in her situation.  Hell, she wasn’t stupid, he’d known that, but he hoped to God that she wouldn’t find anybody hiding inside.  He wasn’t sure what she’d do to them if she did.

*****

Content that the small neighbourhood was empty of any other life, Olivia chose a house at random and climbed the porch steps wearily.  The door was hanging open, saving her the task of breaking in, and, once she stood in the hallway, she closed it behind her, using a heavy shelving unit that stood across from the staircase to barricade it shut.  And then, with a deep sigh, she let her pack drop to the ground.  It hit the hardwood floor with a thud, toppling on to its side, and she followed it down, drawing her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them.  Her legs ached from days of near-constant walking, her feet sore and blistered in her boots.  Her heart hurt, sending spasms of pain through her with every beat, and there was a knot in her stomach that made her feel sick.

 She’d killed someone.  Now that she was alone and safe, for the time being at least, she felt she could finally absorb what had happened back in the liquor store.  She’d taken a life.  She’d snuffed out a spark, stopped a heart, cut memories dead in the mind they inhabited.  And why?  Because it had suddenly all been too much?  Because Daryl had had the audacity to talk about her brother?  Because the shopkeeper had been trying to cling on to a past that she knew all too well didn’t exist anymore?  It had hurt.  It had hurt so much to hear him talk about losing his wife, his daughter.  It had just reminded her that she had nobody left either.  At least he had his home, misguided as he was in trying to protect it.  She was unrooted, cut adrift, without anything to tether her down.  And it had hurt in that moment so much that she’d lost her mind.  What would Dean think of her?  Of all the stunts she’d pulled, she’d never gone as far as this before.

 Outside the light was fading, casting long shadows over the hallway where she sat, and numbly she climbed back to her feet, fingers loosely clasping the handle of her pack as she wearily trudged up the stairs.  She didn’t bother to look around, choosing the first bedroom she came to and depositing her bag at the side of the bed, crawling onto the mattress and burying her face in the dusty pillow.  It smelt stale and neglected, and the dust made her eyes water.  She swiped angrily at them, aggravated by the sign of weakness, but then a memory flashed across her vision:

_Dean was shaking his head, dropping down to kneel in front of her.  He’d shot up over the summer and was now several inches taller than she was, his frame long and lanky, his face losing the last hints of puppy fat so that his cheekbones framed the freckles over his nose.  He examined the torn-up knees of her jeans, brow furrowed in concern.  ‘Mom’s gonna be so mad when she sees you.’_

_Olivia shrugged, brushing the dirt from her hands off on the front of her shirt.  She was annoyed at herself, but she would never admit it.  She’d gotten higher than she’d ever been in the old birch tree in the front yard before she’d lost her footing and plummeted to the ground._

_‘You know she doesn’t like you doing that kinda stuff.’_

_‘You do it,’ she pointed out, sticking her tongue out at him when he fixed her with his mossy green eyes._

_‘That’s different and you know it.’_

_‘Why?’_

_‘Liv-‘_

_‘No, why is it different?’_

_‘’Cause when I climb trees I don’t fall out of ‘em for a start.’  He quirked an eyebrow at her, and her bottom lip jutted out in a pout.  ‘Does it hurt?’_

_‘No.’_

_‘Your knee’s bleeding.’_

_‘So?’_

_‘You gonna cry?’_

_‘Don’t be dumb, Dean.’_

_He huffed and pushed himself upright, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and giving her a squeeze.  ‘C’mon, let’s get you cleaned up before Mom sees.’_

 It wasn’t until her lungs started burning that Olivia realised that she’d been holding her breath, and now she sucked in big greedy swathes of oxygen, though that only made her hiccup as her throat spasmed.  The image of her brother as a young teen was so vivid that she had almost believed herself back there for a moment, and her hiccups turned to sobs as she remembered that she was alone, that he was still gone and she was in the middle of nowhere with nobody to turn to, nowhere else to go.  Dean had always been there, standing up for her when she’d rebelled against her parents’ strict rules, cleaning her up, dusting her off, fighting her corner, watching her back.  Life without him seemed impossible, and yet she knew she had no choice but to keep living.  He’d given himself to save her.  She couldn’t let that be for nothing.  She couldn’t give up.

 As day shifted into night and darkness fell, Olivia didn’t sleep.  She couldn’t stop the tears, held back for so long, and she howled her misery out into the empty room, the empty house, until she thought her heart might actually explode with the force of it.

 *****

 The cries coming from the house knotted up Daryl’s insides.  He was hidden behind the porch railings of the place next door, keeping watch, but the anguish pouring through the shattered window of the home where Olivia had chosen to spend the night had driven him to gnaw on his thumbnail until it bled.  He hated it when girls cried.  It reminded him of his mother, the days when she’d been unable to force herself to get up and out of bed, instead burying herself beneath the sheets and sobbing until her face was red and swollen and her eyes were sore.  Unsure what to do, he eased himself to his feet, swinging his crossbow up onto his shoulder, then tramped uneasily down the steps and across the garden, vaulting easily over the small fence that separated the properties.

Above him the moon was full and bright, casting a pearlescent glow over the path as he stalked across the grass towards it, and the smattering of stars in the inky black sky flickered idly in the distance.  A wooden swing hung from the low bough of a shadowy tree in one corner of the yard, a ramshackle memory of a family that maybe once lived there, before, though it was a sorry sight now without even a whisper of breeze to stir it.  The porch steps creaked beneath his boots as he climbed them slowly, hesitating before trying the door handle to let himself inside.  Nothing.  Though the handle moved, levering downwards under the pressure of his touch, the door refused to budge and he guessed that Olivia had barricaded it from inside.  Smart.

Moving along to the window that bordered the door, he trailed the calloused tip of his finger over a long crack in the pane, before sucking in a breath and angling his elbow at the weakness, forcing the worst of the broken glass from its frame and using the scratched stock of his bow to clear the rest, before levering his broad bulk up and through, landing catlike on the other side.  Inside the house the heart-wrenching sobs were even louder, and he followed them like a trail, up the stairs and along the corridor to a dated bedroom, papered in pastel florals and with a tasselled shade hanging from the lamp over the bed. 

Olivia was little more than a small dark ball on the covers, shaking from the force of her misery, and, despite his disdain for the girl, he found himself inching nearer, reaching out a tentative hand until his fingers brushed against her shoulder.

‘Hey, s’alright.  S’gonna be alright.’  His voice was a soft rasp, almost lost beneath her breathless whimpers, but she shrank away from his touch as though it burned.  Her face was hidden, half by the wild tangle of her hair, clinging to her damp cheeks, and half by the plush pink of the pillow that she rested against, and he thought that if he was someone else, someone kinder, someone gentler, he might take her in his arms and rock her until she regained her sense of calm, but he wasn’t.  He was a roughened redneck who didn’t have a clue how to hold someone, how to make them feel better through the mere suggestion of touch, and she hated him, bitterly, and so he retreated, sinking down into a lone chair that stood in one corner, and letting his bow slide to the floor beside him.  The wooden bars were uncomfortable against his back and he fidgeted restlessly, thinking back to the fresh air and warm painted  planks of the porch that he’d abandoned outside, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave her, not when she was falling apart.  And so he sighed, long and loud, and settled himself in for the night.

*****

The warmth of the sun on Daryl’s face woke him, and for a moment he found himself blinded by the brightness of the light streaming into the room.  Disorientated, he sat up, rubbing his eyes, stretching out the kink in his spine which twinged as he made to stand.  Blinking dazedly, his gaze finally landed on the bed where only the rumpled covers showed any sign that Olivia had been there at all.  Her pack was missing, and the house was silent.

She was gone.


End file.
